No Trade, No Money, No Deal
by Rooietroll
Summary: An orc, a couple of goblins and an elf with a story. Enjoy the read.
1. Chapter 1

Warcraft (c) Blizzard, I simply had the fun of running around ingame and reading their lore.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Shiny shit<strong>

It all started with the arrival of this new - in rather unusual armor parading- shiny shit as they called it.

Shiny shit was the term used for many people, usually to make a little fun out of. Usually the cases that immediately caught the eye, simply because of new and shiny undamaged armor. A fabulous weapon that never seemed to be used. All races knew the sort: they came walking directly of the boat, boasting around stories to anybody who would hear them about heroic deeds they were involved in, with an attitude indicating they could take on anything in the world simply by looking amazing.

Over time there had been many of the kind that walked in and out to the amusement of the local inhabitants. Sometimes it was the way they would flip their hair back, the color of a robe that was crying out 'target' or jewelry that almost asked to be robbed by any two timed criminal in Ratchet.

But it was mostly the fun of betting against each other if they would last or not.

You always had to give them the benefit of the doubt though, Greymur always said. Because nobody could tell by the looks of new armor, a certain attitude in somebody, if you were dealing with an inexperienced fool that never held a weapon before or simply a seasoned fighter. Amusement, that was what it all came down to.

Greymur and Jeri had divided them into several categories of shiny shits. There were those that came in parading, the fame seekers or bounty hunters that would seek out the 'most-wanted' posters, the occasional but fewer in-betweens and last but not least, the fortune seekers or treasure hunters. All of them referred to as 'shiny shit.'

Ofcourse it was funny, when after a day in the scorching heat of the Barrens, most of those 'shiny shits' returned less enthusiastic. Feared by local stories and legends, haunted by the population of raptors that lived nearby, dirty, thirsty, hungry and usually with damaged armor. Most of them returned without the fortune or the fame to add to their name. They rarely lasted long enough to even make it a whole week.

The Barrens was filled with enough dangers to cause trouble for the inexperienced adventurers, sometimes with a fatal outcome. It would not be the first time Greymur helped out with his wolf to drag back a person missing limbs by the time they found him.

He always wonder what brought them here, what exactly made them choose Ratchet instead of any other city or village they could choose from. Was it the same choice he made a while ago? Did they seek the adventure like he had? He rarely got an answer to that question because most were gone before they had the guts to try another day around town.

For some reason this woman made him ponder.

It wasn't unusual to see blood elves around town, though this particular one seemed out of place in Ratchet. She didn't look like the type that would chose a towns like the busy port of Ratchet. He could tell by the uneasy way she looked around. Suspicious, as if she was trying to hide from something. The way she presented herself did not fit with her armor. It made him more curious.

Though the armor she wore told something else. It made the local prostitutes seem better dressed then she was in her skimpy looking outfit, if you wanted his opinion, not that he complained about what he saw. Far from, but her armor -if you could call it that- wasn't exactly… handy. It was pretty yes, but unhandy in battle he decided when he looked her over again. And, as he imagined, would draw enough attention to many persons with wrong idea's.

Greymur did not have time to think about it much longer when Jeri helped him out of his thoughts by calling out his name near his ear with her loud voice.

"Finally!" She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at him in a unamused way. Jeri was a small goblin female with a bright green skin and a smirk that usually meant she was up to no good. Surprisingly she was a rogue, how she ever decided to become a rogue was still the biggest mystery Greymur had yet to find out, but she was. Loudmouthed as she was.

"You know how rude it is when people talk to you and you're not listening? If I were a guy I would hit you Greymur Daggerscar!" She loved to scold him, Greymur looked at her and grinned. "You hit like a guy, and will do so anyway if you get the chance," he told her with a half grin. She snorted loudly after that offend.

"Sooo….," she said eventually, changing the subject as if he had not offended her a moment ago:"What do you think of that one Greymur?" Jeri's bright purple eyes seemed to hold a certain twinkle as she nodded into the direction of the woman. Greymur silently observed the woman as she walked towards the counter at the back of the tavern. In his mind he filed her under in-between, not replying to the question he was asked.

"Hello! Ratchet to Greymur!" Jeri sounded annoyed sitting there on her chair. The orc looked at her, grinning for a second. "No idea," he told her. She snorted again. "No idea? **NO IDEA**? Ofcourse you have **NO** idea! You're a male! Pfff…men! With that plate covering my boobs the surrounding here would not know what to think of me either! Geez, talk of displaying yourself…she could not have picked a worse place to wear that….seriously…a bikini in plate?" She chuckled loudly. Amused mostly by her own reply.

"Makes it obvious doesn't it? She's parading!" Jeri decided as if she knew all along what the elf was about. Greymur shrugged, meaning he did not agree with her yet.

"What makes you think she is parading?" He could not exactly tell what class the blood elf was supposed to present. Probably a fighting class from the looks of the sword she carried. Fighting classes usually meant paladin with blood elves, although nowadays warriors were reported as well. The weapon looked like a two handed sword by the length. It matched her bikini of plate well enough.

"Look at that armor! My sister dresses better then that!" Jeri complained. Greymur grunted. "Your sister is not up for discussion," he reminded her. Jeri pouted her bright painted lips when he did not seem to agree with her on the subject. Whatever the woman was, she was certainly the highlight of discussion at many tables in the Broken Keel Tavern after she walked in. "Care to make a wager on it?" Jeri dared him. Greymur kept quiet, there were new people coming to Ratchet every day. For some reason he did not think this was the right person for their late-afternoon-ritual, though Jeri seemed to think otherwise.

Whenever they had time to sit down and hang out in the Broken Keel Tavern they watched people, sometimes making a bet about how long the person would last, sometimes daring each other to go over and find out more about the specific person. It all depended on what drove the mood.

Usually Jeri would get too drunk, when she started making unreasonable requests for the challenge and remarks that were making the whole tavern laugh. Usually it was Greymur who soothed it so it would not become a nuance for the particular person. The orc sighed while looking at the goblin female that seemed obnoxious in her behavior. "Oh come on big guy! You know you want to!" She licked her lips.

There was always something to do around Ratchet, as it wasn't exactly a quiet port. Especially since the Alliance and the Horde had permission to come here because of goblin neutrality. Tonight Jeri had set her target on the woman.

"She has a story, I can taste it. Not just a pretty plate with an ugly face," Jeri said, as she watched the woman as unobtrusively as possible when she passed their table again. Both the blood elf woman and Jeri seemed restless to him. Greymur grunted when he looked at her again.  
>"I still do not agree with you Jeri, besides she seems quite attractive to me from here," Greymur decided as he countered her remark.<br>"Your view on attractive seems pretty messed up Greymur! What sort of women do they even have in Twilight Highlands?" She gasped at him when he gave her another half grin. The goblin female made a face palm and shook her head. "What am I saying! You're an orc! You don't know attractive from ugly if she would trip in your doorway," Jeri claimed with a grimace. Greymur wisely did not respond to that.

Ignoring Jeri's remark was one of the first things he learned when he settled in Ratchet. She was as explosive as any goblin in her moods. Yet he liked them, as strange as they were. By now he knew what he had to think of Jeri and her statements.

He got a good look at the blood elf woman again when she stopped in her tracks, looking around searchingly for something. Her face seemed almost timeless, oval shaped. Her long auburn colored hair worn in a complicated elaborated style on top of her head. Typical blood elf style Hurias would say. The plate armor she wore seemed to shine with a soft jade color, decorated with simple gold-colored deposits. She left little to imagine about, that was true, even so he nodded approvingly, liking what he saw. Much to Jeri's disapproval.

He decided she was indeed a very attractive woman and that the armor made the curves of her body look beneficial. "Seriously? After all I said?" Jeri gave him a pitying look when she saw him eye the blood elf. Greymur nodded, he still disagreed with her. She shook her head as to tell him he was doomed. Greymur smirked in return.

"What did I miss?" The elf seating himself at their table carried a tray with mugs of ale he placed in front of the orc and the goblin. "Took you long enough to get those!" Jeri instantly complained when she saw Hurias. The elf smiled at her. His face young, his hair a shiny white blond like most of his kin.

"What are we looking at?" Hurias his green eyes looked at both of them, there had obviously been something going on when he was gone, why else would Jeri have such a disapproving look on her face. "That shiny shit who just paraded her ass-less booty by our table," Jeri said and pointed with her pink painted fingernail toward the blood elf woman. "Greymur and I had a little discussion about whether she was considered attractive or plainly ugly. I vote ugly, but I cannot seem to get Greymur to agree with me!" The goblin woman chuckled again now Hurias was involved. The young man bit his lip, if Greymur did not agree with Jeri then it was up for debate.

"You look at her pretty boy and tell me what you think, because our orc-friend over here does not seem to share my enthusiasm to vote her ugly!" The smile on her face was a little annoyed. Hurias was always a bit off when she smiled like that. Jeri was likely to explode in an edgy mood like that.

He had to take a good look in the direction she pointed to see who she meant. All Hurias saw was a blood elf woman from behind as she stood with her back to him. The long auburn curl softly moving when she seemed to nod to the innkeeper. He could not tell if he agreed with Jeri or not. Until she turned sideways.  
>He stared at first, then smiled for a second, his eyes resting on the woman's face. "<em>That's <em>your discussion?" He asked as casual as possible. Jeri nodded, her face telling him to hurry up with whatever it was he was going to say. Hurias deliberately waited for a moment before he answered her. "I can safely say that's just an average face from the looks of it, and that there are many more beautiful women to be found in Silvermoon." Was the outcome, Hurias looked relieved when Jeri winked at him. Greymur gave him a questioning look when he saw Jeri smiled again.

"I knew it!" She boasted. "Hurias agrees with me! HA!" She stuck out her tongue to Greymur. Hurias nodded, hiding the slow upcoming blush from his neck while Jeri gloated over her victory, rubbing it in Greymur's face that it was two against one.

"You're sure?" Greymur wondered, cocking his head as he eyed his elf friend. Hurias nodded. "Yes, I'm sure she's right…she's a shiny shit," Hurias stared a bit too long at the woman to cover his admiration for her. It made Greymur laugh out loud. "Maybe a little more than a shiny shit Hurias?" Greymur asked. The elf blushed more furiously when he said that, Jeri muttered something horrible under her breath he was more scared of.

"You're all the same! You see some tits pass by decorated in some fancy outfit and suddenly there is all excited! You're no real friend of mine Hurias, or you would have backed me up here," she complained. Gone was the victory when she looked at the silent smirk Greymur gave her in return.

"Sure, rub it in! Like I would do that to you!" They heard her say. Hurias tried to remain neutral, just in case. Knowing she was not done sharing her opinion yet. "Anyway, you're a blood elf pretty boy," she addressed Hurias. "Tell me, what is with that look on her face? I mean, she looks like she has to poop!" Jeri continued. "Thanks for this detailed description," Hurias said with displeased expression. "Yeah well, sorry pretty boy, some of these women of kin, they look like their panties are up too high between their lips if you know what I mean. Hell, even I would look like that if my underpants were pulled up that high, obviously," Jeri grumbled back.

Jeri was always critical if she could not win it. Her feelings a bit jealous if they agreed some other woman surpassed her feeling of beauty and drew the attention of the men. And that happened quite often.  
>"Fortunately, Jatfast is not here, but he would have agreed with me," she said. The orc smiled at her. Jeri looked at Greymur, horrent with annoyance. "I think Jatfast would have said she was worth a shot," the orc said.<p>

"Leave my husband out of this Greymur! I'm THE LOVE of his life," Jeri fumed with a sharp tongue. "Really?" Hurias sniggered. "YES! If he dares to say anything else I will eat him alive," she said angrily. Hurias and Greymur both laughed as Jeri gave them a devastating look.  
>"Jatfast would never look at something like that, too skinny and too posh," she concealed her face behind her mug and took an overlarge sip of her beer. The foam remained on her upper lip, as if she had a mustache. Hurias smirked looking at Jeri. With a gesture of his hand he tried to attract her attention.<p>

"**What!** What is it you want to tell me? Be clear about yourself Hurias?" She yelled at him. Hurias looked at Greymur for help. When Jeri was not looking the orc made an obscene gesture with his tongue, pointing at Jeri's back. It made Hurias all the merrier. "Jeri?" The goblin woman looked at him in a stingy way when she turned her gaze toward him. The wrong tone was set instantly when Hurias tried to show her she had something on her upper lip by running his tongue over his own upper lip.

"Hurias? You horrible man! First you stand me up and now you're trying to flirt with me? That won't help you pretty boy!" Jeri cried out. Her voice changed in tone as she looked at him defiantly. Greymur tried not to laugh out loud when Hurias realized this was perhaps not the right way of trying to tell her.

Why the female goblin took this for a flirt he did not know, but she turned it into something else. Before he knew it Jeri was making obscene gestures at him. The awful way she tried to look sensually by wetting her bright red painted lips wasn't very appealing for both him and Greymur, it was rather funny. "Say Jeri, Rena is doing it like that as well, only she uses a bit more tongue when she has something on her upper lip," Greymur blurted out. Hurias choked on his beer while Jeri gave the orc one of her even more dangerous looks.

"Bunch of idiots! Horrible weirdo's! You don't know what you're missing," she claimed and turned around to show them her back. While Jeri was still angry, the shiny shit had now seated herself at a table a few feet away from theirs. Hurias took her appearance in quietly.  
>"Typical, isn't it," Greymur noticed, bestowing Hurias a dry half grin. "What is?" The elf asked. "That you keep staring at her, even though you claim that she is only average in looks," the orc said. Hurias looked at him with a raised eyebrow.<p>

"Yes pretty boy! You stare at her! The only thing you do not do is drool while looking at her! "Came Jeri's bitchy voice. Hurias pouted his lips and sniffed offended.  
>"She's still a bit average ... and a shiny shit,' he said in defense. Jeri gave him an ugly face.<p>

"It does not sound right when you say 'shiny shit' like that Hurias. That's really for the more seasoned veterans among us instead for some youngster like yourself," Jeri was not done with being angry at him yet, otherwise she would have chuckled after that remark.  
>"Youngster? I'm not that young Jeri," he claimed, as she gave him the challenging look, letting him know that one wrong move would have her explode again.<p>

"Erhm...you look soooo sweet ... and extremely handsome Jeri? Why do you even bother commenting on average creature like that?" Hurias tried to save his skin as he looked at her with a faint smile, Jeri stuck out her tongue. She was sensitive for comments of the ones she liked. "I'm trice the woman she is. Maybe not in size, but in brains," she muttered.

While the blood elf woman enjoyed a mug of something Hurias smiled at Jeri. "Ofcourse you're our brains Jeri, I know nobody better at making a bargain then you," he said. It made her smile again as she emptied her mug of ale in one go. For a moment the woman was forgotten. There would be many newcomers that exuded the exuberance and wear polished plate armor to make fun out of. "Right," Jeri said, feeling her bladder after she emptied that last ale too quickly," if you two will excuse me, I have to do what a womanly woman does when she needs to excuse herself for a moment, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Jeri said as she got up from her chair and walked in the direction of the way out.

"Glad that's over," Hurias admitted. Greymur only nodded. Both of them glad Jeri's mood was back to a nice neutral sort."Oh…I don't know." A voice out of nowhere suddenly said. Why weren't they surprised to hear that voice?

"Since pretty boy seems to enjoy the view so much…," the voice said. Hurias flinched when a hand pressed on his shoulder. "What do you say pretty boy? Fifty silver saying that you dare talk to her without pissing in your pants? Or are you too busy to be fearful for my wives explosive moods?" The voice had a certain undertone he did not like.  
>The jingling sounds of silver coins rang in his ears when they seemed to be tossed carelessly on the table. The coins came to a halt as they lay scattered across the table. The last one ticked against one of the mugs, nearly dropping on the floor if the orc had not caught it in his hand. The blond haired blood elf looked thoughtful as he stared at the coins.<p>

"Perhaps you care to show yourself Jatfast?" Greymur said. There was a chuckle and the sound of a rogue that came out of stealth. "I raise you one gold saying you will say at least make one offensive comment on Jeri's behalf about that beautifully polished armor she is wearing. You know, to make amends with Jeri," The goblin that appeared out of stealth was a sleazy looking one, with greasy blond hair tied in a ponytail behind his head. The man looked specifically at Greymur with a wicked grin and moved another a shiny golden coin towards the pile of silver already on the table. The blood elf looked at it. "You're giving me a hard time Jatfast," he said honestly. Although Hurias did not really feel like taking on this bet, money was money. And money was important even for him. "Perhaps," said the rogue thoughtfully.

"But perhaps we need to make it –so to say- a little bit more worth his while?" He laid a finger on his lips and moved back into stealth when Jeri came walking in again. "Think about it pretty boy," the goblin said with an obvious chuckle before he became silent again.

"You boys have been good? What's with the looks on your faces? Did she die? Good! Next round of ales? Hurias, you could have refilled me by now," she said, looking at her empty mug. Taking his she drank what was left of the ale inside while she settle herself in her chair again. "Pretty goblin wife…," Jeri screamed loudly when she heard the voice near her ear. She nearly spilled the last of the mug.

She jumped from her chair screaming "**Hey**!" in an almost offended way when a green hand pinched her bottom. Jatfast Fastfingers released from his stealth again. The sinister grin on his face promised little good. It gave Jeri the last boost she needed to get back into her good mood again when she could cry "Honey!" before jumping into Jatfast his arms.  
>"How long have you been eavesdropping on us?" Greymur asked as Jatfast grinned in a slick way. "Long enough," Jatfast chuckled and pulled a chair to the table.<p>

"I heard the discussion, then something about a bet. And from the mood my wife seems to be in, I thought it would be nice to please her a bit. She gets to pick the target and the loser doubles the amount," he said casually and looked straight at Hurias for that. Greymur sighed and finally nodded. He wasn't in the mood to stop this from happening. "Fine," he agreed. "Pay up Greymur, if you want to do this you add to the bet!" Jeri giggled and nodded toward the table. "That over there, she's going to be our target" she said compassionately, while Jatfast looked interested. His eyes twinkled as he watched the woman over carefully. Jeri did not see him cast more than a few overly interested glances into the woman's direction because she was too busy making lousy comments about the woman. "Interesting armor, I bet the one who crafted it had a great time fitting it to the wearers….assets…good steel is hard to come by, with a hint of jade, looks expensive enough," he mentioned.  
>"You can get a nice price for that," he mumbled. Greymur heard him but said nothing. "Interesting target if I do say so myself," Jatfast admitted, his wife beamed and gave Greymur a certain look.<p>

"And Hurias here is going to be his charming self aren't you sweetie? He's so going to be all over her! You should have seen him, he nearly drooled while looking at her," Jeri finally said, not to the blood elves relief.

"Yes, well, I didn't realize this bet meant I had to romance her. Usually we only find out more about why a person is here don't we? All I usually do is talk to her and in your case make some crude remark about her polished armor," he reminded them equally fair.  
>"I bet another extra gold," Jatfast said with a lame grin at the elf, "that you can talk her into bed," the grin showing his yellowish teeth.<p>

"Talk her into bed?" Hurias shook his head. That was even too much for his standards. "Oh, isn't he sweet? He blushes all over," Jeri cheered as if he had performed a trick. "What's wrong boy? Too much for you to even romance an' average woman' like her?"Jeri cooed as Hurias snorted.  
>"I have enough experience, but for that meager amount I'm not going to end myself up in bed with a complete stranger," he said, half offended as he looked at the pile of money on the table. "Listen kid, you obviously do not really have to sleep with her! The key to this is that you romance her a bit. You know, making her feel she is wanted. Drink a few drinks with her, just enough until she invites you to her room for an appetizer. Because she is sure to have a room here for the night, otherwise she would have left already," Jatfast explained to the elf. Hurias listened to him with a doubtful look on his face.<p>

"Come on kiddo! When you're upstairs with her you can always say you're too drunk or something. It will be hilarious!"Jatfast winked at Jeri. Her eyes blinked, knowing he had something up his sleeve. "Yes of course. Unless you're..._chicken_?" Jeri said, standing up and doing the imitation of a chicken to challenge Hurias. The orc hushed the whole thing.

"Cut him some slack. It's no disgrace if he does not want to do," he said, making Jeri give him a displeased look again. Greymur ignored her. "Killjoy" Jeri hissed at Greymur. "It's fine, I want to try," Hurias said, anything to get into Jeri's good graces again.

"But I want a doubled amount if I win," he said quickly. The rest had no objection to that. "So you'll do it?" Greymur asked surprised. Hurias nodded. Jatfast looked well pleased, clapping his hands together while looking at everybody around the table. "Somebody should check him though, you know to see if he's telling the truth when he comes back," they heard Jatfasts sneaky voice say. Greymur looked doubtfully at the male goblin. Jeri just nodded enthusiastically.  
>"And I think I'm the obvious person for the job. She'll never notice me when I sneak up behind them when they move their party upstairs," he chuckled slyly.<br>"Pervert. Don't think for one minute I will lie down and make love to her if I know you're around!" Hurias said, clearly hurt they did not take his word for granted and that Jatfast would stealth his way around. The whole idea of not knowing where the goblins presence would be at a certain gave him the creeps. knowing he was being watched even if this would turn out into something more.

"Alright, it seems thoughts are running wild here, as I hear talk of when Hurias is performing his deed with the lady instead of the original plan? The bet states he will romance her, place a remark about her polished armor and maybe even makes it up to her room. After that he is even with Jeri," the orc decided. Jeri's eyes glanced at him, knowing he did not favor her choice, yet she still chose it to show him he did not always win.

"Sure sure," Jatfast agreed, to be rid of it. Greymur gave him a long glance. "It still is the boy who's performing here, not you Jatfast," Greymur chose sides. Hurias looked embarrassed. "I'm not inexperienced, I may look young, it's just...well different with my kin," he moped.  
>"Do not worry Hurias, I doubt you would lie," Greymur supported him.<br>"I do! He has not been with us that long and I do not trust him yet, so I think he has something to prove to us Greymur, " Jatfast was clearly not going to change his mind, so eventually Hurias gave in to prevent any further annoyance.

It took him three beers and lots of encouragement from the group until he finally found the courage to take the first step. As Jeri's encouragement became more sozzled now the alcohol starting to do its job. Eventually she could only imitate the challenging sound of a chicken as she thought herself totally awesome. Hurias finally got up.

The woman had not yet removed herself from the table. She was eating a meal now and drank from a cup beside her plate.

Full of courage, he walked by, closing in on her table. Jeri's chicken sounds in the background still hearable. It almost felt like time slowed down for him when he passed her table.  
>"Enjoy your dinner…miss," he said, followed by a brief nod of his head as he passed her, straightening his back and shoulders, pressing his chest forwards to concur the unpleasant nervous feeling of his heart beating in his throat. Her emerald colored eyes briefly made contact with his. The curious gaze of the woman as she looked up from her dinner was met with a subtle smile from his part, he quickly turned his head. His heart pounded even harder in his throat ...<p>

When he arrived at the counter, he had to blow out his breath slowly. With both hands he gripped the edge of the wood firmly to support himself a bit from all the excited. He had dared to say something and look her straight in the eyes. Usually things like that did not work so well for him, he was too shy to talk like Greymur or Jatfast, who seemed to have a talent in speaking to people without causing suspicion of any kind. Even Jeri did a good job at it, though sometimes a bit over the top. But he still had to find his own way into this.

"What will it be?" Wiley the innkeeper looked at him as Hurias stood there reorganizing his thoughts. "Uhm ...," The elf had to think hard before he could remember what he came here for. "A bit slow-minded aren't we? I will repeat my question," was Wiley's blunt comment. "Whaaaaaaaaaaat wiiiiiiiillllllll iiiiiiiit beeeeeeeeeeee?" he repeated ridiculous slowly. "Or did you only come here to wheeze over my counter with your alcohol invested breath kid?" The innkeeper whipped a dirty rag over his counter to prove his point. The elf gave him an angry look.  
>"Four mugs of beer or ale ...please," he stammered polite. Wiley grumbled as he muttered under his breath about making up his mind, beer was cheaper than ale. He took four large mugs from under his tap, filling them quickly and straightened the collar of each beer with a flat spatula so that the mugs would not run over. "Forty silver... boy," he said, and held out his hand. Hurias paid him with half trembling fingers.<p>

He left with a tray and four mugs of beer in a calm pace, back toward the table where the rest sat. He would have to pass her again. She had curiously looked up when he had given her a smile. So she had noticed him. Now he had to think of a way that would make her want to talk to him. This next step requirement a substantial amount of alcohol before he had the courage to take it. And this time Jeri's challenging chicken noises would not rush him he decided. "Step aside slow turtle, I have customers to serve," Wiley rushed passed him without a warning before he realized it. The handle of his broom caught between Hurias his knees, making the youngman loose his balance. As he clapped to the ground the tray flew through the air ...

The whole tavern held its breath when the tray hit the ground with a loud bang next to her table. The beer mugs were flying in all directions. The content was spilled over her table, on her dinner plate,- thank goodness she was already finished-...but worse ...over her armor, her hair and in her face. He stared at her, his eyes wide as he scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible. The banging of four empty mugs on the hard wooden floor, the only audible sound in the silence of the tavern that watched the scene with open mouth.

She was still in the same place, arms close to her body, fists clenched, eyes closed while the beer dripping from her face. Her elaborated hairstyle was so to say ruined and her beautiful shining armor now sticky with dark brown beer. Everyone stared in their direction. With a gracious hand she took the napkin of her lap, and with a simply gesture wiped her face with it as if nothing happened.  
>Her light green emerald colored eyes looked straight at him as he stood beside her table.<p>

"... I'm sorry sooo sorry...," He stuttered, feeling guilty. "**YOU IDIOT**!" Wiley kicked him against his sore knees. Hurias grunted painfully as the goblin pushed him back roughly.  
>"<strong>Shoo! Go away! Leave my customers alone! Go bother someone else<strong>! "Wiley was furious. He quickly turned his attention to the woman, apologizing a thousand times over for her inconvenience. Saying that she would be fully compensated if there was any damage. He offered her a free opportunity to bathe herself and that the elf would apologize for all his fatal errors. He was entirely in her service, the innkeeper Wiley, cringing creep with his unshaven face, the only thing he did not do was lick her heels to complete the picture the way he humbly tried to fix things.

Hurias looked at her, his attitude defeated and ashamed. She had a beautiful smile as she listened to Wiley. She only nodded as he assured her again that she had free use of a bath at any convenient time she wished. Wiley also talked about how he would personally see to it that everything would be arranged. Hurias wanted to sink into the ground out of shame.

"**Come on you**!" Wiley roughly yanked him by the hem of his blue shirt. With his broom stick he poked him in the ribs to show he meant serious business if the elf would refuse. "Stop poking me with that stick! I'll come alright!" Hurias whispered looking at the blazing Innkeeper. Her eyes follow Hurias, he saw her. He just grinned embarrassed, not knowing how this would end. At least he had her attention.

At the counter Wiley blew steam from the top of his roof. Hurias never seen a goblin speak so fast and in a yelling tone, but the little green innkeeper looked like he would go off any moment. Hurias almost felt like he was pelted with rotten tomatoes.  
>"<strong>You offer <strong>**your ****sorry ****excuses to her ****a hundred times over if that is what she ****asks of you, you ****hear me ****you idiotic elf****? You and ****your ****silly ****group of goons do this every freaking time! ****Enough already! One more of these incidents and you are ****no longer welcome in ****my ****tavern!** "He hissed at the elf. Hurias only nodded, collecting more 'rotten tomatoes' as Wiley continued his angry stream of accusations.  
>"You cost me my good name! Shall I talk to mister- foreman -your boss- to see what he thinks about your behavior young man? Huh? Let's see how funny you think old Wiley is when he has you fired for messing up his tavern again?" Wiley grumbled loudly. The elf stoot there, not happy with the threatening promises the goblin gave him.<p>

Meanwhile, you could mob up Jeri from laughter. Her cackling giggle meant for non other then Hurias while Jatfast tried to soothe her when people started to point at their table. It did not interest Jeri one bit that her husband tried so save his hide, not after drinking too much. At that time Greymur decided to mix in. He got up from the table and slowly walked towards the counter where Wiley was still busy with his thundering speech to Hurias.

"Wiley?" Greymur cut Wiley off in the middle of a sentence. The innkeeper glared at the orc, ready to include him into the blame. "I think this will be more than enough to compensate for any damage," the orc said. Hurias was so glad to see Greymur. The orc hunter watched the little green man look at the moneypouch he placed on his counter. The shining eyes of the innkeeper immediately looked eagerly. He snatched it away, his attitude towards the orc instantly changing. As he counted the money in the pouch quickly and made it disappear in his clothes, his face suddenly looked serious as he dared to look at the orc again.  
>"Greymur, you should know better than this you know? You're a grown man. Do you not think those childish games should end by now? I have no customers left that dare come back to my inn ever since you and your goons decided to have some fun with them," it still sounded accusatory. But it was dressed in a slightly chiding manner as he had seen money now. Greymur frowned slightly.<br>"We were just having some fun Wiley, nothing more. We did not meant to harm anybody," the orc said quietly. Wiley sighed, he had a different thought about that. "Let me settle with the lady and then we call this even, okay?" His look inquiring. Wiley grumbled a little but nodded eventually. "Good," Greymur said, beckoning Hurias to follow him.

"Miss?" She was about to walk away from the table when Greymur addressed her. He did so without the difficulty Hurias had. The male elf stared at the orc, wishing he too had the ability to easily converse and speak to somebody like that. The female blood elf looked at him questionably. "Miss, I'm very sorry for disturbed you, but I wanted to apologize for the rather clumsy way my friend here messed up in front of you. He was not quite there with his thoughts, but his intentions were not to cause trouble," he said sincerely, looking at her with his dark blue eyes. She smiled, first at him and then at Hurias. Greymur grinned as the young man turned red in his face. "I...Imsooosorrymiss," he stammered. She looked at them.

"It does not matter ... sir ...I do not think I caught your name correctly?" She looked at Greymur, her expression open. The orc bowed to her. "Greymur Daggerscar," he said briefly and nodded to her. "This here is young Hurias Stillblade," he said, pointing sideways to the subtle yet blushing elf.

"Riselle," she only said. He smirked. "A pleasure to meet you miss Riselle, again I apologize sincerely for the inconvenience of my friend. If there is any damage to your beautiful armor we will reimburse. If Hurias can help you polishing the stains off he will be at your full disposal," Greymur offered her. Riselle looked at the sticky gunk on her armor. It was no longer a shining armor. She shrugged. "It'll be fine, keeps a person alert, "she only said. Greymur wondered what she meant. What made him wonder more was that she did not seem to be afraid of him. The way she presented herself was with the allure of someone who has had more life experience than some of the youngsters that came rushing off the boat.  
>"Then we will no longer interfere with your evening miss Riselle and continue our way," he said, making Hurias follow close behind him. The elf stuttered something that sounded like a -good evening to you too- making Riselle smile again as she watched him leave.<p>

She was already gone when he wanted to take a last look.

"Baaah! You have a really bad timing you know that pretty boy?" Jeri complained loudly, the alcohol making her swing from left to right as Jatfast tried to keep her steady. "Jeri darling...keep your mouth shut hun! You will say things you'll regret," Jatfast soothed her. "Riiiight! Says mister goblin who was planning to steal her armor!" Jeri giggled loudly as she dangerously pointed with a pink painted nails towards his potato-like nose. Jatfast looked caught in the middle of the act when Greymur gave him a stern look.

"Whaaaat? I know plenty of people who would pay a pretty amount of gold for that set," he apologized, as if that made everything right. Greymur did not say anything yet, but his face told Jatfast enough.  
>"Well," said Greymur, and swept the coins off the table. "I expect Hurias to bring me the doubled amount of the wager tomorrow. And Jatfast, I hope your next 'exciting addition' to our fun content will be better thought off then what you originally intended today," Greymur said. Jatfast kept his mouth shut while Jeri mocking him.<br>"I am off, I think I had my share of the evening," the hunter said quietly. "Oh and Jeri," he looked into a pair of bloodshot eyes that eagerly looked back at him. "What's up sugar?" She giggled as if the dark gray tinted orc was somebody hilarious. "I do find her attractive," he said with a half grin before he was gone. Jeri stuck out her tongue. "**KILLJOY**!" he heard her cry out to him when he was already outside. Rena swished her tail when she saw him.

Outside the day slowly ended the grey orc noticed, perhaps for the better. "Hello handsome lady, ready to go home?" Greymur asked the large red brown wolf. Rena let out a barking sound as she followed him.d


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Inconvenient matters  
><strong>  
>Greymur's house was actually not far from the tavern, yet he chose not to go straight home. He needed a longer walk with Rena to get his mind straight on things and decided to walk down the wharf for distraction.<p>

The wharf was filled with people, captains shouting at their crew, workers unloading wares, carts getting packed with stock that would go to the warehouses in town.  
>As the night boat was about to dock somebody on deck used a red light to sign to the one of the wharf, who signed back with a white light, to guide the boat where to dock. Busy as ever.<p>

A prostitute tried to lure in customers as she showed some leg to the sailors that were gathered on the dock. Workers unloading another shipment. Passengers walking of the second night boat after their documents were approved. Greymur walked on, one arm resting on Rena's head. The she-wolf was so big that she easily reached his chest.

There was always something to do around here. Ratchet never rested. Here it was business around the clock, where some merchants chose to open up their shops at night others opened during the day. Some had shop the whole day if they had the staff for it. A normal day around the small goblin town. Four Ratchet Bruisers ran past the orc, shouting loudly and screaming to another pair of Bruisers that they needed assistance. Another normal sight Greymur realized. Security was good enough for a busy port like this.

Greymur always wondered what was going on when there were Bruisers running for something. Especially when he saw them run toward the upper part of the town. Usually they were needed down the docks or on the boats, near the warehouses in case of thievery. The ones on duty always patrolled the harbor extra.

Ratchet was build near a mountain slope and close by the sea. It had many different streets, a main road and many small side streets. Down near the docks they had tried to create an even path to make transport of goods and shipments easier for the workers. Last thing they wanted were workers that sprained their backs while walking up the steeper part of Ratchet. Sometimes it could not be helped though.  
>More Ratchet Bruisers ran past him and Rena. The wolf jumped aside as one almost knocked her over. The shouted – <strong>watch out<strong>- made sure Greymur chose a different street so he would not walk into anybodies way. It was better not to get into a fight with any of these goons.

Ratchet Bruisers would not hesitate to hit you if you weren't cooperative. He had seen enough end up in shackles after a drunken fight. Security needed to be tight in a town like Ratchet, as it would attract not only business people. Unfortunately it also lured criminals. On daily bases, he doubted any Ratchet Bruiser would be bored in their job. As catching thieves was not all they did. They did many things, from escorting people around, to security matters, sometimes they were bouncers for one of the brothels, or required to hunt down several of the ever growing raptor population that could pose a threat. Ratchet Bruisers weren't persons to pick a fight with. Yet there were only few non goblin Bruisers he knew off.

Probably people like himself that settled in the goblin town because of its neutrality or were looking for a job. Ratchet was full of opportunities and jobs. They always needed people down the mine.  
>Even though most of the inhabitants were from the goblin race, other races were as common as any goblin.<p>

Ratchet had something for everyone. If you had money to spend than anything was possible here. Here you could gamble in the casino's. Find yourself a prostitute for a night or fun. There was trade from all over the continent found here. Music, entertainment, you name it. Ratchet had it all. For the rich, poor, any layer of sorts. Which also meant tight security. Close monitoring of everything that went on and safety for those within Ratchet was necessary.

A tough job for the one that arranged all of that, Greymur knew.

After he left Twilight Highlands and traveled towards Orgrimmar, Ratchet had been one of the places he wanted to visit. Mostly because of the goblins he had met during his stay in the orc capital. Some on the ships told him interesting stories he listened to, deciding he was going to see that for himself. He made a whole list of places he wished to see after he left Orgrimmar.

One of the first time Greymur entered Ratchet he amazed himself about the wonders of the boats that docked and the marketplace where they shouted wonderful things he had never seen before. Ratchet never slept. The new smells that caught his nose, the techniques he saw, endless wonders of strange things.

In the Goblin Slums in Orgrimmar they taught him how to make a raptor stew in at least four different ways. In Ratchet he learned six more, adding different herbs and spices to his own taste. Even though the goblin barbeque didn't appeal to his way of cooking, he learned to appreciate the weird and different variety of recipes you could make with it.

While traveling towards he came through the Crossroads. A nice and quiet place with good sphere, very different from noisy Ratchet. Yet Ratchet had something…wonderful. Something he wanted part of.

Here he saw a bar fight almost end in a murder once, when one of the drunken costumers took on one of the Ratchet Bruisers. The man barely lived to tell the tale after his beating, and probably never caused a riot again with one of Gazlowes henchmen. Even though small in height, they could whack you unconscious if necessary.

Rena gave a short bark. With her nose in the air she pointed into a certain direction… the smell of food. He smelled it too. Greymur grinned for a moment. "Clever girl," he told her. They had not really had anything proper to eat all day, so he changed his mind on turning around to walk into the direction Rena's nose pointed in. Food was good before he would go home.

There was certainly no lack of food in and around Ratchet. You could easily hunt fresh prey outside Ratchet. And there were too many food shops to go around. The orc decided to buy something at a vendor shouting how good his wares tasted. The man sold different types of spiced meat and fish. Too much choice, so he eventually settled for a couple of meat sticks.

"Two," he said, and paid the goblin who quickly wrapped the two sticks in a piece of paper, adding a greased grin to Greymur when he said he had a sale on the fish in his shop as well. The flies buzzing around the fish did not appeal very much to take the offer, not even when he heard the price.

So he settled with just two sticks of meat. Rena's nose instantly pressed against his hand he held the packages in. "Snack diva," he told her, unwrapping the paper and taking the stick out for her to chew the meat up.

He lingered near the entrance of the market, pondering if he would take a stroll across to see if they had anything he liked. Sometimes he did business with the leatherworkers after a good hunt. They would gladly take the skins of his hands for a trade of their own goods. Sometimes he had to bargain for it, to get the right price. But if Jeri was with him that was no problem.

Goblins used a strange system of payment and trading favors among each other if they knew you.

The huge tent near the market area close to the wharf was already being prepared for the next morning. Any normal vendors would stay out of there. Once a month that specific part would be used for a special kind of animal event. It would be hosted as a gathering of businessmen and women that would eat and drink in the secluded area, served by men and women of all races.

They would have rare animals on display, exotic birds, rare species that could be trained as mounts, if you had money owners were quickly changed that day.

That the animals weren't the only ones that swopped owners for the right price did not seem to matter. By the morrow they would be gone, these business people. Left town as silently as they would have come in. Though slavery wasn't mentioned, they simply covered it up with the special animal event. Surely real animal trainers attended the monthly event, though they were rare. He did not like that kind of trade. Not that he could change anything about it. Unfortunately it still happened all over Azeroth.

The normal market area never really closed, only at night less vendors were active then during the day. If you had something of value to trade you were certainly at the right place here. At first Greymur was mainly surprised by the crowd that gathered here on daily bases. The variety of different races that were looking to buy and sell was huge. Very different from what he had been accustomed to in Twilight Highlands.

Since the Dragonmaw clan was 'accepted' by the Horde things had changed. With Zaela as their new Warlord they set a new future for their clan. As their previous Warlord had not been the same after his return from Outlands. He was no longer pure, corrupted as Zaela stated.

The red skin tone and the weird fangs that changed his appearance should have warned the whole clan, but they abided by his iron fist and did not dare go against him. Those who did died a horrible death .

But Zaela freed them in a sort of way. Secretly gathering people to aid her cause. Telling everybody no Dragon maw was the same and they should stand up against their leader. When the Horde came they sent an ambassador, the man was killed for trying to reason with the Warlord. By then Zaela already rounded up troops to set the old Warlord aside. Greymur followed her example. Showing that not every Dragonmaw orc was the same. The eventual acceptance of the clan into the Horde gave him the same rights as other orcs they were told.

So he decided, for himself, he wanted to leave Twilight Highlands. Having brought no honor to his clan so far and having no living relatives anymore, he wanted something new. Not that he did not have obligations to his clan, he did, old obligations. And after talking to Zaela orcs in the clan were granted permission to leave if they wanted. Some left together with him, others stayed to clean up and rebuilt. He chose to leave behind the place where he had lived all of his life.

At first he had sought refuge in Orgrimmar, to gaze at the huge city and all its inhabitants. Working as a grunt to earn a living was doable, same sort of work different place. Life in Orgrimmar was expensive thought, he found out. Not as easy as living in a clan like he was used to.

During his off-duty time he was usually found in the Goblin Slums like so many grunts. There he got to know Dankin, a goblin, with a profession that appealed to him. The man talked to him about bonding with animals. About skills, about fighting together with your pet in battle. Greymur was fascinated. He got along with Dankin. Eventually the goblin agreed to teach him the tricks of the hunter class during his time off.

After that Greymur decided to use this new skill to find out what the rest of Azeroth had to offer him. Before leaving Orgrimmar he found Rena. Buying her as a puppy from the riding trainer who did not see much potential in her. She was considered too weak to carry anybody as a worg he told Greymur. She would never fit the status of a proper riding mount. So she became his pet.

Together they traveled farther inland, toward the wild Barrens where he eventually ended up in Ratchet.

Ratchet held everything. And mostly because of its neutrality, Ratchet gave Greymur the opportunity to ask permission to settle in town temporary. Gazlowe proved not to be such a bad guy. When he found out Greymur wasn't work shy he asked him for the strangest jobs. Depending on the demand, he offered jobs that had to do with hunter skills and sometimes strength. Greymur did not lack strength nor stamina. He did not mind the strange jobs they made him do.

With the money he made a descent living, as the weirder jobs earned you a better profit. Combined with his own little trade as a skinner he did not do badly. There was always demand for different types of leather in a trade port like Ratchet.

He liked Gazlowe, goblin or not. Whatever Gazlowe had done in his past Greymur did not wish to know, but whatever Gazlowe tried to build here in Ratchet was something he appreciated.

When Greymur moved to Ratchet he could even chose between two vacant housing opportunities. Which was lucky, because the previous owners had disappeared under vague circumstances. If it had something to do with the two corpses dangling on the gallows he did not know, but that the two houses were vacant was a fact. And he had a choice.

One stood in the middle of the wharf between a casino and a brothel, where the throng of customers immediately ran down your door. If you were unlucky your door would be mistaken for and people would constantly knock for a night of fun.

Even with the stunning view of the harbor and the sea, Greymur chose for the other house instead. Knowing all too well that a good night of rest weighed heavier then the view. Seeing the bouncers escort somebody out was fun for a couple of times, thought he would get bored with the scenery. Though he never got tired of seeing a drunken customer being escorted from one of the brothels towards the dock and ending up dumped in the water cool off. They would usually pull the customer out so he could regain notification of reality again.

So the second option Gazlowe offered him lay a little more up town, close to the foot of the mountain, more in the direction of the Broken Keel Tavern.

His house was situated between the blacksmith, a fishmongers, a brewery and Zanak, a goblin slash inventor (calling himself "chef the new cuisine" for Ratchets finest) with his small restaurant where he combined his engineering skills with strange culinary cooking. Zanak wasn't a very good cook though.  
>Greymur soon found out that living between these neighbors was a far better choice than the option he had on the wharf. The only downside was the smell of burnt food or exploded fish, depending on whatever it was Zanak had in mind. Usually followed by the endless discussions between him and his brother Ranik about the choices Zanak had made. Ranik thought that his brother would have been better off into 'trade supplies' like himself. Instead of wasting his time finding the ultimate combination of self-built furnaces that worked on explosives and unappetizing cooking. Quarrels between the two were normal everyday life in Ratchet as well.<p>

Greymur loved it.

And he grew to like Ratchet more and more as a new home, carefully making new friends among the strange goblins that sometimes crossed his path. Noisy Ratchet, where the wild entertainment was for everybody. Regardless of race, color or gender.

While Greymur ate his meat stick, Rena tried to attract his attention. Distracting him from his food so she could try and snatch it from the stick and have herself another treat. With a short bark she watched him with shining yellow eyes, nose toward the meat stick. "No snack diva, go catch a rabbit if you are still hungry," he told her and ate the last piece of his meat. Rena let out a sound that was almost devastating. "Lazy worg. There is plenty of prey running around," Greymur said to her.

Rena eventually disappeared on a late night hunt while Greymur decided to walk back home for a quiet evening.

* * *

><p>"<strong>It's all YOUR fault Hurias,<strong>" Jeri's unmistakable loud voice was heard half a mile away. Greymur shook his head as he noticed the elf and female goblin sat on his doorstep while he made his way up the dim lighted path towards his house.

It looked like he would get little rest tonight. Jeri scolded Hurias, calling him a steaming pile of rotten kododung, while the elf in all his politeness dared not go further then give her a warning that she might wish to reconsider whatever her sharp tongue would make her say next, just in case she would regret it later.

Greymur chuckled, Jeri was totally the opposite of Hurias. Nobody could match Jeri's dirty mouthed way of talking when she was in the wrong mood, or very very drunk. If there were, then he had yet to meet them.

It always made him wonder even more about how a goblin woman like her ever made it into a rogue to start with, having such a sparkling and charming personality and for most that loud voice. You'd think an enemy would be notified immediately when Jeri was around.

"When did it suddenly become my fault?" He heard Hurias say. Greymur could picture the elf would be turning red in his face by now. Even though he could not see them properly, he heard them well though. "**As of NOW**!" Jeri yelled. Hurias huffed.

"I refuse to accept your accusations," was the reply from the blonde-haired elf. By now Jeri would probably look like she could blow up the whole of Ratchet."**Keep your mouth shut ugly boy or I will smack my fist in your face**!" He heard her promise.

"Try me!" Hurias said boldly. "**I will ram all those shiny white teeth down your throat if you do not shut the hell up ... I mean it**!" As Greymur approach the house he could now see a Jeri that clenched her fists and jumped from one leg to the other in anger. "What seems to be the problem?" They both instantly shut their mouths when he stepped forward.  
>"I could almost hear your damned drama from down by the port! What did you think? Let's argue because there isn't enough to do around Ratchet?" His comment was cynical and Jeri and Hurias looked slightly taken aback when the orc hunter passed them to open his door.<p>

"Jatfast has been arrested," Hurias began. Jeri looked at him with a sharp eye when he gave her a rude gesture. Greymur turned abruptly. "Arrested? Why?" He frowned. What did the male half of the goblin set do this time?

"They would not even tell what he was arrested for!" Jeri said hurtful. "I bet for peeking!" Hurias said. Jeri gritted her teeth, showing her fists to made sure he knew she would really punch him in the nose if he made one more wrong comment. "He did not!" She insisted. "Did too!" He heard Hurias say in a childish way.

It still amazed him to see Hurias could be so timid at times and suddenly bite into the fact he thought he was right about something. The elf was not about to give up, which meant he had a point.  
>Greymur heard them continue their quarrel, the bickering between Jeri and Hurias wasn't something new. He let them do their thing, without feeling the desire to interfere into the conversation. So he made it easy for himself, sitting down into a chair at his kitchen table and laying his feet up on another chair. The best place to observe the troublemakers until they would stop bickering and come to the point. This was at least as entertaining as Ranik and Zanak arguing.<p>

"**GREYMUR! YOU'RE NOT LISTENING**!"Jeri shouted in his ear. He gritted his teeth from the fierce sound causing a large amount of irritation in his ear. He restrained himself. Poking a finger in his ear to even the pressure as he inhaled through his nose. The popping sound after he pulled his finger out felt good. Though it angered him she always did that. Shout so close to his ears.

"Shut your horrible trap for a moment Jeri and tell me in a normal voice what exactly is going on here," he said a little bit angry. "But you weren't listening to me!" She claimed. "You do not surely think I for one would involve myself in an argument where you try to intimidate every member of your party by screaming from the top of your lunges do you?" She almost looked ashamed after that. She even shut up for a moment.

"Good, now tell me what the problem is? In a normal tone please?" He said dryly. Jeri's mouth hung open, perplexed at his amused look.

"I seriously hope that you have a hoarse voice and sore throat tomorrow," he heard Hurias say quietly in Jeri's direction. It made Greymur laugh softly.  
>"<strong>I heard that<strong>!" Jeri scolded him, jumping up and down as is she was trying to hit Hurias with a full fist in his face. The elf stepped back in time for her to miss him.  
>"Enough play. Tell me what's wrong?" Greymur hushed the whole thing. He offered Jeri, now considerately out of breath, a chair. Hurias kept at a safe distance from the angry goblin woman.<p>

"They have arrested him," she began. "Gazlowe's…or rather Asalt's men, and I do not know why!" She did not sound so strong anymore, her ears drooped. It wasn't like Asalt to arrest anybody without notifying them of what they were accused off.

"And you have really no idea?" Greymur asked again. Sometimes Jeri held the answer to her own questions, but in her overwhelming ways she easily forgot about that. Though this time she could not give a straight answer, not even when she thought about it longer than usual. Shaking her head she looked at him. Greymur stroked his chin, feeling the stubble of an early beard coming through. It gave an annoying scratching sound when he stroked his chin again.

"Hurias?" He looked at the elf. The blonde-haired young man also looked doubtful.

"We were still in the tavern after you were long gone and then some shady-looking individuals came up to Jatfast. He spent talking to them for a while and then invited them to join our table," the elf said.  
>"That's what we like to call <em>friends…<em> Hurias!" Jeri sneered at him. Greymur scowled at her, "Jeri, shut up ... please!" She bit her bright red lower lip in disapproval.  
>"Well at least they laughed at your clumsy behavior," she muttered. <strong>"Shut it Jeri! Let him finish<strong>!" Greymur fist hit the table. Jeri froze completely.

Hurias cleared his throat as Greymur gave him a nod.

"Those shady types -that were actually laughing at my adventure with the tray and the young lady- seemed to know Jatfast quite well. And Jatfast had to brag about how he could have nipped that jade looking armor of that woman if I had not been so clumsy. They were gone pretty quickly after that," the elf managed to tell, still a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation himself.

"Yeah Hurias, they laughed so hard that the hooded one needed to be supported to stand up straight by one of _my friends_!" Jeri muttered. Hurias did not remember which one she meant but he ignored her. He looked at Greymur before he continued.  
>"First it was quiet and then we heard a very loud scream and there was a lot of commotion upstairs in the tavern. As if someone was moving heavy furniture. You could even hear the noise and the screams through the noise in the tavern. Wiley ran upstairs -angry like he is- and came back screaming for one of his employees to fetch the Bruisers. He was shaking and all and before we knew it there were more than six Ratchet Bruisers rushing into the tavern, pointing weapons at us. Nobody was allowed to go anywhere," the elf said.<p>

Greymur remembered the Ratchet Bruisers that passed him earlier. Hurias wasn't done talking yet. "When they came back from upstairs they had arrested someone, I could not tell properly who it was, but I think it might have been one of those figures Jatfast had been talking to at our table earlier. He was clapped in irons himself not long after that and taken away without question or notification of what he was accused off. Then everybody was told to leave the tavern ...," Hurias was quite upset Greymur noticed. "How many were there?" Greymur looked at Hurias. "How many Ratchet Bruiser? I do not remember," Hurias grumbled about the odd sounding question.

"How many of these shady characters?" Greymur repeated himself, he needed to know. Hurias folded his shoulders, he did not quite remember how many.  
>"<strong>FRIENDS<strong>!" Jeri bleated between the conversation. Greymur looked at her, a stern expression on his face. "I hope they truly are your friends," the orc said. She did not follow his thoughts, her lips forming angry words until it suddenly hit her and she formed an "oooohh" to understand what Greymur was thinking.

"Noooo…they wouldn't," she said, convinced that her friends were her friends. Greymur did not know for sure, as long as he did not have a proper answer yet. He could only imagine they had set up Jatfast. So he did not give her a reply, but he thought enough.

"What will happen now? What will happen to my sweetheart?" Jeri asked, trying to hold herself together. Her shoulders slumped. Hurias placed a hand for comfort on her hand. She did even snap at him for that, she did not say anything too him, instead she took his hand and squeezed it. Greymur got up. "Where are you going?" Jeri instantly jumped up as well. He shrugged. "I'm not sure what to think of this, but it won't harm to check if I can catch some information about what really happened there," he said.

Jeri nodded a violent yes, squashing Hurias his fingers by gripping his hand even more tightly. The blood elf made a painful face when she squeezed his fingers again.

* * *

><p>Outside of the Broken Keel Tavern there was a large curious crowd hoping for the same as Greymur when he arrived. To get some answers. Even Wiley was standing outside his own tavern. He saw more people he knew in the crowd. The large group consisting out of all walks of life, muttering and guessing the wildest things. He simply joined the crowd, hoping to catch something that might give him a clue.<p>

"Evening Greymur," next to him stood a goblin male with strange half goggles, he knew he was called Zef. The man only nodded to Greymur as he squirmed himself deeper towards the front of the crowd to get the best view. There was plenty of gossip and hints about what might have happened. Not that it made sense of what really happened but still.

One claimed an angry traveler that had nearly jumped off the night boat had come to the tavern late at night, running up the stairs of the inn and kicking in the door to one of the rooms because his woman apparently had a secret affair. Another said he seen a human in a corner behave secretly and steal some of the food Wiley had laid on a plate to serve to a customer. Yet a third bold story told about a rogue that pick pocketed the whole tavern without any of the customers noticing their money pouches were missing. The fourth whispered of a woman that had seduced one of Wiley's customers, taken him upstairs and then killed him!

To Greymur none of these stories made much sense.

"**Move away! Back off! Security coming through**!" The group that stood flat nosed against the front door of the closed tavern was brutally driven apart by a bunch of Ratchet Bruisers. They weren't exactly gentle these Bruisers as Greymur heard several whacking their way around. Four more Ratchet Bruisers made sure that the large group of spectators were stepping back to make room.  
>"Please move! There's nothing to see here! Just let us do our job," one of the Bruisers grumbled while dangerously pointing his weapon at one of the too nosy goblins up front. He wacked the man straight in the face when he refused to move. The goblin instantly made scares when the Bruiser dared him again.<p>

When the door of the tavern opened again they brought out a woman. She desperately tried to hold a towel wrapped around her body while being escorted by one of the Ratchet Bruisers. She held her head high, not looking at anybody when she stepped through on her bare feet. Greymur gasped when he saw her. The long auburn colored hair hung almost to her hips when she passed the spot where he stood.

"Miss Riselle!" he blurted out in disbelief, repeating the name of the woman louder. She did not hear him. He tried to turn and get out of the group of spectators that was gazing at the woman that was taken away. There was muttering. Did she have anything to do with the fact Wiley's tavern was closed? Or the screaming upstairs? The so called murder? Or was she the woman that secretly held an affair. Then were was the man that kicked in the door? They all gazed at the tavern door again, the group sticking together like glue in the hopes of something new. Perhaps a third person that would be brought out in irons or a corpse?

Greymur used his elbow to push himself out of the crowd.

"**OUT OF THE WAY**!" A bruiser called to a newly formed crowd as they walked down the dim lighted path that went down town. Greymur was stopped in his tracks by one of the Ratchet Bruisers blocking his way. "Hold on orc, the road will be free again once we have escorted the prisoner," the man told him. Greymur could only see how they disappeared around the corner…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: To create a trade  
><strong>  
>There was still a large group of curious people remaining outside the tavern, in hopes for something spectacular perhaps, the rest dripped off to go home or to go elsewhere.<p>

With them a man dressed in a dark cloak with a hood pulled far over his face. Without attracting too much attention he stepped away from the crowd. His stature about the same size as that of an average human. A gloved hand was holding a well crafted staff with a polished stone on top of it. You could see the magic swirl within the stone as it showed of a faint glow in the dark. The red light pusled as the man walked and lifted his staff every time he took a step. Sometimes a brighter red glow would sparkled in the light of the street lanterns when he passed underneath, before it was gone. The lantern would grow dim for a moment before it would turn back to its original light. With each step the man tapped the hardened ground to indicate his pace.  
>Until he too was stopped by the Ratchet Bruisers. Like Greymur and others that stood next to him, waiting for the very same reason.<p>

"What is going on here?" He demanded to know, his voice clearly irritated when nothing happened fast enough to his liking. He shuffled a bit more forward when nobody answered him."Excuse me? Good man?" The voice of the man was low and clear, again he wasn't heard. The immediate grumble showed his patience. Greymur eyed the man when he suddenly swung his staff forward in an irritated way. Greymur was nearly wacked against the head with the tip.  
>"Look out where you're pointing that thing!" The orc said sharply. There was more mumbling hearable behind them, people stepped aside because they too were nearly hit in the head with the staff. The man ignored them. He waved the staff around again, facing Greymur. Causing more complaints from the group that had to wait. The orc saw the flickering of eyes when the man gazed at him for a brief moment. "I did not think my question was directed to you ... <em>orc<em>," the man was clearly not going to take his surroundings into consideration to Greymur's own growing irritation.

"I'll break it in half if you are not careful," the orc promised. The man waved the staff again, it passed right under Greymur's nose. The red of the stone reflecting in his eyes for a second. "Is that more to your liking? _Orc?" _Greymur gave a low grunt and received a barking laughter from the hooded man. He swung his staff around in a very exaggerated way, going back and forth, creating a large free circle around him.  
>"If you will excuse me…<em>orc, I… <em>have better things to do then to chat with local extraordinaire goons," Greymur growled shortly. The man stepped towards a Bruiser now. The orc hunter decided he was not going to interfere with the man and his attempts to talk with the Bruisers. He did not feel like quarrelling over feeling offended or not, he had been called worst in the past. Being simply called _orc_ wasn't a great enough offense to him.

The man was awfully displeased when the Bruisers ignored him after he addressed them in a more polite way then his patience showed. Though his patience was short as well.

"**Excuse me? I have a simple question and I wish a decent answer**! " The sound of his authoritative voice when he said that made Greymur smirk for a moment. In this tone the man would earn himself a problem with the Bruisers.

With the top of his staff he tapped one of the Bruisers on his shoulder plates. The metallic sound was hollow. The Ratchet Bruiser did not react at first, keeping his gaze on the road. When the man did it again he turned around, annoyed. "One more time and I will arrest you," he warned the person with the staff. The man said nothing, but the way he snorting gave away he was in an offended mood.

"Why are we not allowed to pass through?" He inquired, trying to remain polite now he had the attention of the Bruiser. This time keeping his staff with him. The Bruiser grumbled. "Wait your turn, the road will be free in a moment again!" Was the snarling answer from the Ratchet Bruiser, who showed no intention of giving him any further information.  
>The man straightened his cloak. The cracking sound of the stitches in his leather gloves telling of more annoyance when the man furiously grabbed his staff in a tighter grip.<p>

When the road was finally released the man disappeared with the flow of spectators continued their way. In other circumstances, perhaps the hunter would have held the man accountable for his behavior, but Greymur had more important things on his mind.

* * *

><p>His first step was to get information in the Bruisers headquarters. He knew of one man that could tell him more about what exactly happened with Jatfast - and not to forget - miss Riselle. Greymur had thought that if there was information to obtain, Asalt would be the man to know about the incident, thus his best start the Bruisers headquarters.<p>

The headquarters was situated in an alley around the corner near the bank. The name of the alley literary rendered it's name the way you would expect it to be, a dark alley. The only sign on a street lantern pointed into the direction. A wooden piece of an old ship perhaps that was painted over and signed with 'The Dark Alley'.

At the end of it you could find the headquarters, stashed away in a corner where no one would expect headquarters, especially not since it did not look like any proper headquarters. The sign that held the official name was half rotten away and barely readable.

The windows were so dirty they looked dark, and the door was so rickety that it sadly hung in its hinges. It was actually a big mess in the alley. There were iron barrels every few meters with fires in them, a place for everybody to dump anything that was burnable. The Dark Alley did not really appeal to visitors. But locals knew where the Bruisers could be found if they needed them. Until their new headquarters was built, they remained in the alley. It had its advantages though.

For the less well-informed visitors the search was simple once they got proper directions, The Dark Alley, around the corner near the bank, you couldn't miss it.

As for thieves who tried to have their way at the bank, they were rudely awoken when the Bruisers came running around the corner instantly after somebody sounded the alarm. The Ratchet Bruisers immediately came into action whenever there were problems. Close by the wharf and the docks. Up town, downtown. Near the border stones and sometimes even beyond.

Thanks to a lot of gnomish engineering and a thoroughly designed system of complicated inventions that immediately sounded the alert in a part of town, the Bruiser headquarters would instantly be notified if there was trouble. Of course it didn't always work properly, but the idea was good.

Greymur had been here often enough when he was asked for one of Gazlowe's jobs. Upon entering through the squeaky door the first thing he saw was a man with a head that looked so mutilated that he was actually shocked the first time he saw him. By now he was used to Less and his deformed looks. The man had been very unlucky in fights during his life. He looked pretty squint as well.  
>"Hey Less, shouldn't you be home already?" Greymur greeted the man who looked drowsy at him. He got a toothless grin of the man who raised a hand. Greymur shook his head, Less his shift should have been over when the evening came, but Less always seemed to be here. Yet the man made a great receptionist for those who had business to discuss with the Bruisers. Mainly because of his toothless grin he was nicknamed Less Teeth.<p>

Although the man did not look like he did his job well, he was good at it. Less was sharp of mind and acted with ease and care, handling most cases himself and leaving the more pressing issues to Asalt. And Asalt was just the man Greymur needed to talk to.

Asalt was currently the appointed Chief of the Bruisers. Under his guidance Greymur had quickly learned to work in the chaos that roamed here.

"He is in his office," Less mumbled before he dozed off again. Greymur walked towards his office.

Asalts' office had no door, the goblin himself was sitting with his dirty boots cross legged on his table, leaning back in a chair from which he only used two legs. Like any goblin he looked rather sly. Perhaps that was a rogues image, since Asalt used to be one before he quit his job. He chewed loudly and rather nonchalantly on something that made him produce rather tasteless sounds.  
>"Seriously Asalt, if you were serving under my old Captain he would have kicked the legs out from under that chair," Greymur noticed dryly when he came in with a knock. The eyes of the goblin sparkled with a gleam when he saw Greymur. He just chuckled, not impressed by the remark and spat out the thing he was chewing on in a jar next to his table.<br>"Greymur, ugly bastard! What brings you here?" The goblin greeted the orc with a lopsided grin. He remained seated where he was.

"You showed up a bit late! You missed the biggest spectacle of the evening," the goblin said as the orc smirked. "Have you been sent by Gazlowe?" Asalt inquired, wiped a drop of saliva away with his sleeve from the side of his mouth. Greymur shook his head. Asalt searched for something in his pouch, digging up a small paper wrapped gum. "Want one?" The hunter declined when he offered the orc one. Greymur shook his head. "No thanks, I don't like that invention, chewing on a rubber," he grimaced.

"That is gum with flavor! The best invention ever!" Asalt said to him as he unwrapped one from its paper content and put it in his mouth to continue smacking distastefully. "So you weren't sent by Gazlowe then? Shame, I could have used you tonight to be honest," he said regretfully. Greymur grinned. Asalt could always use anybody.  
>"I've got better things to do than be one of your replacement Bruisers," the orc said. Asalt drew a crooked mouth when he said that. "Hey! Don't you give me that attitude orc! There are plenty non goblin Bruisers willing to take your place. It's a good job! Pays well and it's not that hard!" The goblin grumbled almost offended.<p>

"Besides, my core group is a nice bunch of laid back personalities with loads of expertise in the job. They better not hear you say you don't want to be part of their job Greymur, they would kick you in the knees for that," Asalt grinned. Greymur shook his head as he laughed. "Ofcourse everyone knows that the core group of your Bruisers is an intelligent bunch of individuals. But some of those new recruits you have running around seem to lack certain traits. Apparently you do not require certain qualification anymore to walk around with a weapon and call yourself a guard in order to whack somebody over the head when there is trouble," he said with a faint grin. Asalt gave him a long nose.

"Don't remind me of your abilities hunter! I recall when you needed to learn those very same tricks yourself I was the one that taught you," Asalt reminded him. Greymur grinned, yes he remembered that very well. Even though he was good with weapons, he too had to learn specific things when he was helping out in the security branch. Asalt had taught him a few useful ones.  
>"Next time you come in for work remind me to let you guard the outhouses," Asalt joked as he offered him a seat. Greymur chuckled. They had been friends the moment he walked into Ratchet, so he knew who sat in front of him.<p>

First time he met Asalt he didn't know what to do with the goblin, mostly because of his lame humor Greymur liked him best. It made the first job in Ratchet an easy job when he was working as a bouncer for one of the casino's. Asalt didn't have his Chief position yet and was sent to do the job with the grey orc.

Befriending a goblin was strange to Greymur at first. But in a town filled with goblins there you could not avoid becoming friends if you wanted to know your way around. So he did, opening up to the wonders of goblin inventions, the grazy personalities, the noisy ways of displaying themselves. By now he was used to them.

"Now, tell me what bothers you, I'm sure you did not come for our fine coffee," he said to the orc. Greymur shook his head. Coffee was something he never got used to. In Orgrimmar he met many goblins that seemed to be addicted to the dark brew that left a strange smell he could not place. Tasting it once was enough to ensure he was not the type to drink it.

"I was wondering if you could give me information about a certain young lady named Riselle and about Jatfast," Greymur said in short terms. Asalt pondered for a moment. "Hmm, that wouldn't have anything to do with that incident in the tavern?" The goblin eyed him for a second. The orc hunter nodded. Asalt sucked in his lower lip in a peculiar way. It made Greymur frown. "The first name does not ring a bell," Asalt muttered unamused. "But Jatfast? What has that bastard done now? I swear Jeri is so much better off with someone else," the man said. Greymur grinned.

"I think she will disagree with you on that, as she is practically glued together with him if she could help it," Greymur stated. "But no matter. Jeri came to tell me that he apparently was arrested by your Bruisers? And I was wondering why?" Greymur looked at the goblin male. Asalt straightened his hair behind his ears as he looked in thoughts for a moment. His face nearly said opportunity the way he looked. Asalt changed occupation when he found out that being Chief of the Bruisers earned him more money and cost him less effort. The man was thinking deeply.

"What's it to you? Were you there?" He eventually inquired. Greymur shook his head. "I only saw your Bruisers run. But I was hoping you could tell me more," he said. Asalt scratched his head.  
>"That's pretty shitty for Jeri," he muttered. "I have not read the official report yet. I know that people have been arrested, but that's classified information," he had to say. Greymur gritted his teeth for a moment. "Ofcourse you don't have this from me, but you could try and obtain information at Hazer's place," he said casually. Greymur looked serious now. Hazer wasn't exactly a name he liked to hear.<br>"You probably can't sent me that way on official business?" Greymur asked, venturing in hopes that Asalt would help him with this. Asalt looked difficult.  
>"Hmm, no, sorry dude, usually it isn't a problem, but this is somewhat more complicated," Asalt said with a sigh. "And I do not want the big boss breathing down my neck. If Gazlowe had sent you himself it would have been a different story," said Asalt, the orc understood. The situation unfortunately did not offer him the advantage he had hoped for. "But I'm sure Hazer knows more, he usually does," Asalt told him, Greymur cracked his fingers when he heard that name again.<p>

"Hazer it is," was all he said. Asalt looked grim for a moment. "What? You're seriously going to Hazer to ask about Jatfast? Wait a few days, a week, maybe two and it will be public information," he said. Greymur shook his head. "Can't let Jeri wait a week or more, you know how she is," he said. Asalt grinned for a moment.

"Greymur, before you start poking around, take some advice from me, for free," Asalt said. "Watch out with what you ask around for. If it isn't official yet you could get yourself into some serious trouble, especially with Hazer. He can't be trusted," Asalt said. The orc nodded. He knew about that.

"I kind of made a promise to Jeri," he said. "Sucker!" Asalt grinned. "And good luck, you'll need it," he said to the hunter when he got up. Knowing he would need it.

* * *

><p>There were always ways to get information. Through official and unofficial ways.<p>

Considering the official channels, he would probably have to wait a week or more before anything was known about the incident like Asalt told him. But there were always places he could obtain unofficial information, one of those places was prison. And Hazer had been head jailor ever since Ratchet build the prison. If new prisoners were brought in Hazer would know what they would be in for. If he would share that information for the right price was something else.

You could either request visitation rights in prison, which required a ridiculous amount of paperwork to fill out, or you could bribe your way in. Filling out those papers would take him about the same time as when he would wait for the official announcement.

But if you were 'liked' by the head jailer, you could call in a favor. He would forget he ever saw you when he let you in. Jeri always did it that way if she needed to visit one of her clients and fill out their payment plans.

Favors, trades, promises, they could be worth more than money if you had anything to offer instead of shining coins. The unofficial ways usually were paid by calling in favors, trading your skills for something else or make a promise you signed with your name. Things could be obtained for the right price Greymur knew. The downside was if Hazer had no personal sympathy for the applicant, you would get nowhere and would still have to go through the official ways.

Ofcourse there was the unofficial network if you had connections, but for that you needed adherents. Consisting of friends who could set up a quick deal if you would return them a favor in time. Best ways was the deposit way. It was called that because people would swop favors with each other, or collect them. For backup purposes, in case you lacked money.

If you could 'swap' or 'trade' a favor with another or call in a favor, a deal was easily made. Greymur had learned that shaking a moneypouch around Ratchet could work both ways. Robbery, or a faster way to get what you wanted. Trading favors was simply getting one service for another. Although allowed with a blind eye, Ratchet did not officially tolerated things like that on paper. Greymur knew that such negotiations could provide him access to a shortcut. But he did not have the resources for it yet, unlike Jeri.

Though he could always try, on her behalf. Sometimes mentioning her name worked wonders. Maybe Hazer had a good mood. The man had a thing for Jeri, though that enthusiasm wasn't shared by Jeri. Nor by many others. Asalt wished the head jailor gone, Greymur encountered little problems with him so far, beside that one time. With the short argument he once had with Hazer. He ended up drinking if off in a friendly way according to his memories, he should not worry.

The prison was situated with its entrance in a building that was mostly underground, although you could not instantly see that. Its head jailor a pain in the arse for those who did not know how to deal with the moody goblin named Hazer.

Hazer had a crooked nose and dirt piled up under his nails as if he had been digging a tunnel himself to escape from. Most of his leather outfits were decorated with holes. The man wasn't known for his patience nor his hygiene. He surely wasn't loved for the way he treated his prisoners at times. Hazer was known to be a hard man to deal with.

When Greymur arrived at the prison his hopes dropped when he instantly saw that this would not be an easy task. Not only was Hazer in a very cranky mood, he had no desire to speak with the orc or anybody else. Not that the hunter would have expected that after he explained himself.

"What do you want orc? It's in the middle of the bleeding night!" Hazer was enjoying the half drunken state he was in and certainly had no intention of turning this into a discussion at this nocturnal hour to allow a prison visit. Not even when Greymur mention Jeri.

Jatfast and Hazer could get along, or so he always thought. Even if that was true Hazer did not help when he mentioned Jatfast was arrested.

"Draw a number orc, I have been bothered so many times tonight I lost track of every idiot that faced my door. And your sad story matches that of all the idiots that think I will be sympathetic with them. Not you, not even Gazlowes stiff snotty assistant can authorize me to change my mind! So you and all the others that come to tell me shit like this, come back tomorrow. Jatfast or not, I do not care if Jeri is whining or crying her eyes out. Maybe it's good for her to know he's safely tucked away in here. She can reconsider what kind of a creep she married," he muttered and smirked unsympathetically. "I'm sure as hell am not going to tell you who all my new prisoners are!" Angered that the orc would not leave the moment he told him no.

He muttered something unintelligent under his breath after he realized he perhaps said too much. "Go away, come back tomorrow!" He sneered again. Greymur gave him a straight look. He just mentioned Jatfast was in there. When Greymur tried to urge him of the need Jeri was in to know how her husband was doing Hazer simply got more annoyed with him and tried to sent him away again.

"Persistent aren't you," he muttered. "You're like bleeding Jeri," he claimed when he looked at Greymur. "Alright? Unless you have something to trade with me, I perhaps feel inclined to change my mind. My price changes by the hour though, keep that in mind," he said suggestively. Greymur did not have to rely on sympathy when he had to say no. The answer was quite simple. "Nothing to offer? Then you come back tomorrow and fill out that nice pile of paper I have sitting around for official prison visits!" The tough jailor goblin told him before he pushed Greymur out with force and slammed the door shut in his face.

Official channels did not sound good right now.

* * *

><p>It was already halfway through the night he finally walked towards his house. Jeri and Hurias were probably still waiting for news. The orc muttered. All he managed to find out was that Hazer received new prisoners, that Jatfast was among them, that miss Riselle was arrested and that the Broken Keel Tavern was closed for the rest of the night. How many more got arrested or who was brought to Hazer's prison remained a mystery. Greymur's quest for information reached a dead end.<p>

So he told Jeri, with some reluctance, that he still knew nothing and that Hazer had annoyed the shit out of him by making him aware he had no position to bargain with him, unless he had something to trade or offer him in exchange. Which unfortunately was not the case.

"I'm terribly sorry Jeri, I had hoped to do more for you," he finally had to say to her. All three of them were looking grim. The goblin woman was silent for a long time. Too long for Jeri's standards. The far-away look in her eyes and her tight mouth were not much like Jeri. Until she suddenly got up and looked at him with a watery smile. The look in her eyes suddenly bright. "So Hazer wants to exchange something does he?" Greymur looked doubtfully at Jeri's sudden fanatical eyes. "What are the odds if we give him something to trade? Hmm? he kind of told you Jatfast was there and probably would allow you to speak to him if we trade him something good yes?" She wanted to know. Greymur shrugged. He did not know.

"With Hazer you never know. Asalt could not do anything for me because it was a complicated affair and not official yet," he said. "Yes, I understand his problem and I understand your problem, but you've done what you could," Jeri said appreciatively. Hurias looked upset, he could hardly understand their conversation about trades or offers between Greymur and Jeri.

"I know you had nothing to trade, but that does not mean that I do not have something that can help us, after all, it's my husband we're talking about," she said frantically. When Jeri had a fanatical look in her eyes, she was planning something. Whether it was a good idea you could never tell. Hurias shrugged when she took Greymur by the hand and pulled him towards the door. "Hazer is just as dirty minded as anybody right?" She said, leaving Hurias and Greymur unsure of what she was planning. "I think he doesn't get enough of the action to make him smile more…yeah?" She laughed out loud. Hurias his face was one big question mark when she said that. Though Greymur nodded when she beckoned them to follow her. "Come!" Jeri said, pulled harder at his hand to get him up from his chair.

"Where are we going?" He asked. "I think I have a deal to make with my sister, but I will need you in that deal Greymur," she mentioned. The notion of this specific request in the trade did not pass him, though he had no idea what it was for. He narrowed his eyes as she went for the door.

"But I have nothing to trade you back with, unless you want me to hunt things for you or skin you some fine leather," said Greymur. "We'll figure it out along the way," she said with a laugh. "Besides, with you in the deal I had in mind you do not need to trade me back anything silly!" Jeri always seemed in her element when she could make a bargain or a deal. It was a goblin thing he realized, having the nose for opportunities and all.

Most goblins seemed to have a trait for the trading business. Jeri lead them towards the wharf where most of the brothels could be found. "Where are we going again?" Hurias was all curiosity. "To my sisters silly!" Jeri notified him, her expression bright again. The grin on her face made the whole idea even more ominous for Greymur. Jeri had many sisters, even more relatives.

"Hazer wants a deal and I think I have something to trade," she said.

"I did not know you had a sister," Hurias said as he looked at Jeri. Greymur laughed, Hurias did not know half of Jeri's family ties, he on the other hand did. She was leading the way toward the wharf. Passing several brothels and casino's on their way.

"I bet you did not know I have not one, but three sisters," Jeri's mood was completely reversed. Hurias was silent, he had not known much of Jeri's past. "Three sisters ... wow," Hurias was glad they weren't all around. He could handle one Jeri, but four was a bit much. "One of my sisters works in The Pink Stocking," she said proud. Hurias looked at her in surprise. "That ... that is a brothel," the elf said. "Yes clever one! And it lies between Hooters Bare Naked Butt and Gang In Bang, all by the same owner, "she managed to tell. Greymur frowned. Hurias kept his mouth shut when she said that.  
>She turned around and looked at him with a sweet smile on her face. "You can ask my dear Hurias, because I can hear the crack in your brain," Jeri said with a sinister chuckle.<p>

"S-she works as a lady behind the bar?" Hurias stammered, afraid to ask the wrong question. He immediately got a slap from Jeri on his arm. He grumbled, rubbing his sore arm.  
>"No you idiot! My sister is a madame!" Jeri actually looked even more proud when she said that. Hurias did not know what to say. Wasn't being a madame the same as being a prostitute? He did well not to share that thought with Jeri or it would have earned him another slap. The orc hunter could not help but feel almost sorry for the elf as he had to laugh again about the restless expression Hurias showed.<p>

The Pink Stocking was the smallest of the three brothels. There were many other ones, but these three were owned by Greazy the Dealer. Jeri walked unceremoniously into The Pink Stocking, pushing Hurias in rather forcefully through the door when the elf mentioned he would wait outside. Jeri did not hear him, so he was left no choice.

Through the door they entered in a small hallway that lead towards a counter where you could notify your wished. They were warmly greeted by a rather curious clad hostess who clearly knew Jeri. "Hey Toots, is Jewels around?" She asked quickly. Toots grinned, flipped through her register behind the counter.  
>"She is still ... busy," Toots winked, Jeri nodded understandingly. "Have a seat in our waiting lounge, she won't be long if I look at her schedule, don't forget to get yourself a drink while you wait, first round on the house," she said, pointing into the direction of a curtain.<p>

"Come boys," Jeri beckoned them over, without any trouble she disappeared though a transparent curtain which led them to a new space. Hurias looked as if his eyes could fall out with everything he saw. It made him feel rather uncomfortable. The Pink Stocking was a medium brothel where the hostesses were friendly and offered possibilities for a drink or food when you had to wait. First drink on the house usually kept them waiting that little bit longer. Toots was not the only hostess walking around Hurias noticed. There were several, dressed in the same fashion Toots displayed.

There was more. Many other women in scanty clothes, some with half-naked torsos, seemed to amuse the customers. Most of them goblins, some gnomes, others humans. Jeri pushed him forwards to a fluffy looking couch where she seated them.

A male human clad in a tight leather pair of pants winked at Jeri when he passed them. She smiled, beaming at him when he waved before walking to a female looking goblin lady. Hurias's mouth opened in more shock when he noticed something else about the so called 'lady'. Jeri closed it for him when he kept staring. "Staring is very rude pretty boy, they might feel inclined to ask if you're green," she mentioned to him. Greymur chuckled behind his hand when Hurias flushed a bright red. He looked away to avoid more red blushed from the gathering of people that visited the brothel. Instead he tried to focus on the surroundings.

A big staircase gracefully decorated the hallway at the back, most likely giving access to the upstairs area. If you sat down on one of the fluffy couches you could see the staircase. On occasion, a lady came down to fetch her next customer. The elf could not help but feel very uncomfortable every way he looked. The relief he showed was almost mortifying when he heard Jeri whisper she saw Jewels.

A dark haired woman with a bright green tone of skin came walking down the stairs.

As she entered the room, she gracefully swayed her hips from left to right as she walked. Her corset was striped red and black, with a simple rose attached to her left bosom. Her peignoir trimmed with a white border. The corset pushed her breasts up to her considerable advantage, as she seemed to be quite endowed up front for such a small female. Curls hung over her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed as she observed her surroundings.

Jeri sat in between Hurias and Greymur, a green hand with pink painted nails laid possessively on each of their legs when she was noticed. Hurias wondered why she did that, but Greymur shushed him. They weren't bothered with Jeri's look and her hands clearly claiming Greymur and Hurias were hers. The other women did not come closer than needed.  
>"Jeri! How lovely to see you!" The woman rushed over to her. "What brings you here?" the woman was clearly happy to see her sister. Hurias could see the resemblance in their faces. "Oh, ... who are these two handsome treats you brought with you?" She looked sideways and smiled at both the orc and the elf, chuckling, as she noticed the elf desperately tried to look away from some of the scenes in front of him. Her gaze rested on the grey orc in front of her. He obviously had little problems with her checking him out.<p>

"Do you have time Jewels? I wanted to ask you a small favor," Jeri said in all honesty. Jewels nodded, notifying Toots she was occupied for a while.

Jewels was not only a very pleasing appearance to look at, but she was also a clever businesswoman according to Jeri. Earning her money with an occupation that was perhaps less accepted, but with her reputation she had the right to refuse certain types of individuals, earning her the right to be called madame instead of some hooker. Even though doing the same job, the title suited her very well. As she guided them to a private area she eyed both the elf and the orc openly. She seemed explicitly fond of Greymur's muscular appearance when she walked beside him. Telling Hurias he held such handsome features made the poor elf blush even heavier as she touched his amazing blond hair. Which only worked in Jeri's favor.

"I have a problem," Jeri immediately said when Jewels had closed the door behind them. "Jatfast has been arrested and that damned jailer refuses to give us any details. And I do not know what he is accused of, or what they will do to him in there. I need to know!" She said, her eyes fixed on Jewels. "It would be faster if we had something to trade in hopes we can act faster on his behalf, otherwise it may take weeks," Jeri explained the problem. Jewels laughed when they all looked at Jeri.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure he'll be fine, but I will help you if you want," Jewels said. Jeri looked relieved. Jewels got up, making a full circle around Greymur. The orc stared back at her, she smiled pleasantly at him for that. She also made a full circle around Hurias, who got extremely nervous of the woman eyeing him from head to toe. "I'm open to suggestions," Jewels said approving as she appreciatively turned her gaze from Greymur back to Jeri before she sat down. Hurias seemed to be even more in dismay. "Come Hurias, we will go downstairs for a drink," Greymur suggested with a smirk to the elf who was not at ease. Jewels gave a nod and a wink as Greymur answered her with a wicked grin for taking the elf out.

Jeri took long to make her agreement with her sister. Jewels and Jeri came back after Hurias had gulped down his third drink, to his relief. Things were getting slightly complicated to his taste with all these half naked males and females.

"When you get around let me know when, okay?" Jewels said before they parted. Jeri nodded. "Goodbye, good looking piece of muscles," Jewels blew a hand kiss to the orc who chuckled again. He did not know what to make of it yet, but he liked her attitude.

Once outside Hurias was especially relieved that they left the brothel. "Geez Hurias, you're not accustomed to anything are you?" Jeri said in a blunt way. "You would have lost that bet you know, lacking backbone. I doubt you could have talked that shiny shit into going upstairs with you if you cannot even look at things going on inside any local brothel," Hurias looked stupid by that sneering remark, still a bit taken by what but he had just seen.

Greymur gave her a stern look for scolding the elf again. Jeri's expression softened when she clapped him heartily on his back in a rather painful way. Hurias straightened his back. "Ofcourse I'm used to _things like that_," he lied. Jeri giggled. "Ofcourse you are sweety," Jeri said, Greymur sniggered for a moment. "Just be glad we did not have to go into the Bang in Gang," she said with a smirk. Hurias rolled his eyes, trying to show off in a semi displeased way before she overwhelmed him again with her fast talk. "They would have ripped your clothes off the moment you would have set foot in there," she simply said. Now Greymur roared with laughed as Hurias gave him a sore look.

"But the main point is, we have a deal," Jeri said and gave Greymur a meaningful look.  
>"I have something to trade for you, Hazer will be pleased with a deal like this," Jeri sounded like she had it all figured out. She gave him a piece of paper. As he unfolded it the paper contained a voucher signed by a curly handwriting. "Legitimate voucher that will grand the exchanger a full night of fun with one of the women in The Pink Stocking," Jeri said and tapped the paper with a grin.<p>

"Amazing," Greymur had to give it to her, perhaps Jeri was usually a tad too noisy, but she had surprises enough up her sleeves."What exactly did you arrange in exchange with your sister for this…favor?" He wondered. Jeri waved it away with a careless gesture. "Nothing special, I promised Jewels that you would be available for her once we would settle this deal with Hazer, that's all," Greymur stopped and took a loud breath. Now it was Hurias his turn to laugh hard.  
>"You ... you swapped me for a night of fun to your sister?" He cleared his throat. Jeri nodded. "It was either you or pretty boy over there, but she was more into muscles than the pretty looks. Besides he would not lasted long enough to Jewels taste," Jeri said, her grin wild. Greymur stared at her. "Oh nothing serious, just an expression. She is really great," Jeri immediately said, speaking in favor of her sister.<p>

"Right ... and when did I consent to this?" Greymur said as Jeri shrugged. "Who cares! You're single, and my sister insisted she wanted you. Trust me Greymur, if she requests you personally then you get Jewels herself. Not one of the other girls. When I say she knows _her ways_she knows her ways if you know what I mean," she winked at him. He had no idea what ways that were, but if it involved 'lasting long enough' it sounded heavy. Jeri giggled girlishly. "So I though what the heck, you probably wouldn't mind!" She said in a funny tone, not looking at him. Greymur did not wish to consider this an option, but before he could say something Jeri undermined his desire to speak up and vote against it. If he would then the deal with Hazer would be off as well, he knew that.

Hurias muttered."What do you mean she was more into muscles then looks? I am a good looking man!" Hurias claimed suddenly. Jeri laughingly, shaking her head. "Pretty boy, don't try to understand, this is much too complicated for your taste. Just be glad that Greymur has sealed the deal because he is slightly better …gifted for a situation such as this, you know, mentally ofcourse," Jeri instantly patted her forehead, not wanting to indicate anything else. The orc wanted to say something, but Jeri spontaneously grabbed him by the hand.  
>"Thank you sooo much for doing this in favor for Jatfast Greymur! You have no idea what this means for us. Did I mention I'm really glad we're friends?" She said very seriously. The way she looked at him made it hard for the orc to speak up.<p>

"You seriously will not regret an evening with my sister, she is really really good in what she does, trust me. She is really fun companionship… _and_ she is very diverse," Jeri promised him when Greymur looked dubious.  
>"Oh, did I mention she is a warlock as well?" She giggled while walking into the direction of Greymur's house. Leaving the orc to wonder how he was going to save his skin out of this one and why it gave him a weird idea when she mentioned that Jewels was a warlock.<p>

"Should I...worry?" Jeri looked at him. "Naaaaaaah, you'll be fine!" Jeri said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Gathering information  
><strong>  
>Their footsteps sounded very hollow in the long dark corridor that ran down from the dark to even darker corners. It led them deeper underground. Without the torches he would have lost his way around the endless rows of prison blocks. For all he knew Hazer could try to make fun of him and made him walk the same route four times. He didn't know, all he had were his instincts and Hazer reliability for now. Not that he liked it. Then again after seeing what he had to offer the jailer suddenly was pleasant company.<p>

Greymur did not have a clue that the prison had so many underground levels. He thought Hazer was making a joke when he said there were more than four sections. It appeared the prison was much larger than he had initially thought. Hazer, head jailor, chuckled, saying it was nicely hidden from view but certainly no secret.

"Nice huh?" The orc heard Hazer say, the goblin seemed to have a much better mood than before. "Wonderful," Greymur remarked somewhat cynical. For him it was a very narrow passage. Most of the hallways were cramped, build for goblins rather than tall orcs. Hazer grinned, he sounded satisfied and went ahead of him, deeper into more darkness.

Greymur wondered if he should have picked another time, but Jeri insisted he would go and offer him the voucher, before he would change his mind. Nobody could resist a free night of fun she said. And she was right. Hazer had whistled between his dirty brown teeth when he read the curly handwriting.

When Greymur had reported back waving the paper in front of his nose Hazer had let him in, the goblin was far from happy to see him again though. More out of curiosity he wanted to see what the orc had come up with. When all he saw was a piece of paper, before even reading it, he was unamused and tried to get rid of him by sneering blunt remarks that this was not what he had in mind. Greymur finally managed to make him shut up before he could explain the trade was inside, and not the piece of paper itself. Hazer though he was being played a fool.

His greedy eyes had read the voucher at least four times before he gazed at Greymur, asking him if this really wasn't a joke. The goblin was in doubt, his expression dark. When he read the voucher again, his eyes seemed to gleam even greedier then he already was. Hazer had a suspicious nature to anybody. He wasn't very open in his personality towards others. His first doubt was the authenticity of the voucher. Wondering out loud how the orc could have arranged something so fast.

But a night in a brothel was not something you often got a trade for. Not unless you had good connections. Not exactly something he would have thought of the orc.

Greymur had looked at him, trying to see if he would bite. Ofcourse Hazer doubted him. He even asked how many strings Jeri had pulled to arrange this. Knowing very well Greymur and Jeri were friends. Greymur did not answer. He told the jailor it did not matter and he could either take it or leave it. His demand, to speak with Jatfast and the young woman they brought in. Hazer only nodded and tucked the voucher away in one of the pockets of his jacket.

When he changed his mind after five minutes he tried to negotiate about the amount of people Greymur wanted to talk to, admitting both of the named persons were present in his care. But Hazer was smart enough not to offered him less then what he got to keep it a good deal. He muttered about having to escort the orc down because there were hardly any light and that the woman was somewhere else then Jatfast. Greymur stood his ground and said he wanted to speak to both of them. They eventually settled he got two hours to talk to them. Hazer thought that was enough to hear a live story and any other inconvenient embarrassing moments that would pass. Ofcourse his curiosity made him nosy and he asked the orc what it meant to him.

Greymur told him to mind his own business, it meant enough for him personally to want to speak to them both, Hazer did not have to know why. When the goblin muttered about showing respect Greymur did exactly what Jeri told him to say. Simply threaten to take away that voucher and mention he would use it for himself if the jailor was being nasty, and he would shut up. She knew him too well Greymur realized.

Greedy goblin fingers fiddled with the paper in his pocket, taking it out with a sleazy grin before he made the voucher disappear into his pocket again. It still surprised Greymur that eagerness differed per goblin. In Orgrimmar they were known to be nosy and sometimes greedy. But in Ratchet it make a huge difference how much money you had to spent, to what you could offer in trade to get something done.

Here rules were different. If you knew how to play by those rules, there was a lot you could gain by the right people. He realized he was lucky to have Jeri. With some persuasion he got Hazer to finally take him down.

Now they were in the middle of a long dark corridor where Greymur had to watch out not to bump his head every ten meters.

You'd think that with modern techniques known to the goblins, the prison would be equipped with lights and other modern gadgets. That there were lamps was a fact, as he bumped his head enough. But the technician who had connected the wiring had made a mess of the job according to Hazer. Greymur was handed a torch. No lanterns for the visitors, Hazer said, he had lost too many lanterns already in the darkest of places. And it was really pitch dark in some of those places Greymur noticed now.

There were parts of hallways that were half lighted, buzzing sounds of lamps going on and off, while other sections had no lights at all. The lower they got, the less likely they found light, Hazer warned him. "Watch your step," he heard the man chuckle. Greymur nearly slipped of a small part of the stairs that lead them to another long row of prisons cells. Tricky steps he thought.

"You know what the best part is orc?"Hazer said, as if he was about to tell a joke. "That you can put the most difficult cases at the bottom. Guaranteed you won't be bothered by their screams," Greymur did not even wish to imagine.  
>"Where natural light does not come, they become as tame as any creature deprived from any living soul and light. Even the worst cases. Give it a few days and they are eating out of your hand. Only too glad to hear somebody's voice and to know they are not alone. I always bet how long one of these big guys lasts if they are brought in. No matter how tough they look, they always break in the end if they get to share their cell with the gnawed bones of the previous occupants," the goblin chuckled.<br>"If they're lucky, the rats won't start on their toes the first night," he nearly cackled when he said that. Greymur really did not know what to think of somewhat strange fascination of the goblin.

Their footsteps continued. The echoes reverberating against the stone walls. Hazer suddenly swore loudly. A sound, which sounded like he stepped into something mushy, followed the curse he uttered. Greymur thought it mostly sounded like a foot getting stuck in a pool of mud, where it would suck you in and you could not get out anymore. It was a dirty sound.

"Look out! There's something down here," the goblin warned him. The faint odor of putrefaction filled his nostrils. "Use your damned light!" The goblin yelled at him. "Ugh, what's that smell?" Greymur mumbled, at first not feeling obliged to light Hazer's way but eventually did. The orc held his torch closer to the cursing goblin. He saw a half jumping Hazer who tried to wipe his boot on the stone floor. It took a while for the cursing to subdue since whatever was on his boot would not easily come off.

"**What is this mess**!" Hazer's annoying voice sounded even more annoying in the low passage. When Greymur used his torch to look at the floor, the goblin had smeared about half a meter of blood and guts of a half-decomposed rat to the stones. "Nice," the orc muttered, glad that he was not the one that had stepped on top of the rat. Hazer grumbled, then simply chuckled. "It will give a nice job for the new recruit, that'll teach them to clean up the hallway decently," Hazer mentioned. Greymur didn't really want to know what the head jailer had in mind for all his trainees or new jailors. But it could not be a pretty thing to be working for such a man.

"Let's see how well that new one will do on brushing my boots," the head jailer said with a dirty smirk in the faint light of his torch. "So if Gazlowe would ever sent you here for work, you already know you need a strong stomach to run around these passages," he said and chuckled again when he went to the other side of the corridor that seemed to go over in a crossroad between more passages. The hunter wisely kept his mouth shut.

The deeper they went the colder it became. In the distance Greymur saw the faint glimmer of light to his relief. "Why are they down here?" He asked curiously. The upper cellblocks weren't occupied, maybe one or two prisoners from what he saw, no more. He would have had space enough to settle two or more prisoners in the upper block instead of down here. "The rogue was too loud and she would have made the rest scream for a striptease. My head is aching orc, so why would I care? I did not feel like looking at that rat of a rogue they brought in, and they brought the lady down before I could tell them to put her elsewhere, tough luck for her. That will teach that blood elf to be so uptight in my presence." He actually sniggered, feeling very smug about the fact he held power here. It was clear 'friendship' to the head jailor would safe Jatfast in prison.

"Pretty little elf that one. Maybe for her own sake – and mine- she is better off down here than in the upper block. Too much distraction is not good in my line of work you know. Though I would love to have a private chat with that one…if you know what I mean," the goblin said cheerfully. Greymur grunted angrily, it made Hazer shut up. Feeling it was not helping the atmosphere between them by talking about the woman like that.

"Seems to be busy tonight," he tried to lighten the mood again by changing the subject. The goblin chuckled. "They say there was a big fight in the tavern. Three people got arrested. Or so I heard ofcourse. I only got two new prisoners. But you probably already knew that," Hazer said, blowing Greymur's attempt for more information.  
>"They are at the end of this corridor," he said, his torch going up and down as he pointed into the right direction. "I'll be back in two hours to pick you up," he mentioned, then Hazer disappeared into the darkness, leaving Greymur at the beginning of the new corridor.<p>

This passage seemed as cramped as the other ones he passed. Although the smell of rotting food here was stronger than in the other sections he passed. His torch drew eerie shadows against the wall as he walked on. The hunter wondered if Hazer tricked him by leading him down here or really did hold up to his end of the bargain. The hunter stood still to see if he could sense where he was. To his side he could see small wooden doors with even smaller barred windows. The small wooden doors were bolted from the outside. Next to the door was a wall of stone and then a barred cell. In the gloomy light of the faint lamps it seemed like an endless corridor.

The rapid patter of a rodent that made itself scares was the only hearable thing for now. It was very quiet down here...ridiculously quiet ...The orc tried to listen again, to be sure he had not been mistaken. Letting his hunter instinct work into the darkness in hopes of the smallest sounds. A noise, a breath, something, anything.

"**GREYMUR**?" The orc was startled when a hand wildly tried to grab him by a foot. With a growl he turned his action into a reflex, sticking the burning torch through the bars, nearly burning the goblins eyebrows. The rogue screeched in fear. Yelling:"IT'S ME! IT'S ME!" before Greymur pulled back his torch. Jatfast let out another scream and crawled away from the bars. He moaned loudly when he huddled himself in a corner of his cell.

"Jatfast?" Greymur tried to look into the cell. "Yes it's me! Are you blind?" The goblin said in a nasty tone. It sounded like Jatfast. "**You could have warned me you would be pointing that thing in my face! You almost burned away my eyebrows you idiot!** "The hunter frowned, he did not need proof that this was in fact Jatfast. The sour-looking goblin came closer to the bars again for Greymur to see him in the dim light of his torch. Greymur was relieved. "Sorry, reflex," was all he said.

"Reflex? REFLEX? Reflex my arse!" The goblin rogue muttered in anger."What took you so long? I thought you would never get here," he complained immediately. The torch affair already forgotten.

"How long did it take you guys to come up with something? Where is Jeri? Why did she not get me released already?" He grabbed hold of the bars of his fixed residence and tugged at them firmly. "We didn't know what was going on, so we did not really have anything that could help us yet," Greymur said. Jatfast glared at him. "And you came all the way down here to tell me that you have done nothing? Please tell me you're here to get me out...that you know what's going on and why I'm stuck here? Tell me Jeri thought of a plan to take me home?" He sounded pleading. Prison did not suit Jatfast well Greymur noticed. The usual attitude the goblin showed was gone.

"I have no idea," The orc hunter admitted. Jatfast collided his head against the bars, falling down on his knees, whining.

"Whhhyyyyyy...!" he cried out dramatically.

"Why have they arrested you?" Greymur asked the obvious. The goblin grumbled. "How should I know! I don't even know why I'm stuck here!" He said in a sneering tone. "Where is Jeri? She usually fixes these things…," he tried again, looking desperately at Greymur, as if the orc had Jeri hidden up his sleeves or something.

"I'm sorry Jatfast, we have no clue either," the orc said again. That was not what the goblin wanted to hear. It made him stand up in anger, tugging the bars of his cell again, glaring at Greymur as if he would cut his throat. "**Why can you not get me out Greymur! Normally Jeri rubs it in she knows so much, and she sends the big oaf to me with…nothing**?" Jatfast almost had steam coming out his ears. He raved and swore on about everything he could think of. Eventually he kicked against the bars of his cell door, yelling loudly that he had broken his foot.

Greymur let him do his thing, he would not be up for reason in this angered mood.

"I could leave if you don't want me here? Or you could try and lock pick the door yourself perhaps," he mentioned lightly. Jatfast instantly stopped wailing about his broken too, his eyes feared. "No NO! It's fine! You stay here…I don't want to be left alone out here. These doors are rogue proof…," he looked claustrophobic. Surprising for a rogue Greymur thought.

"No wait…you go back upstairs and get Jeri. At least she has brains. We can work something out. Damned Greymur, you should have brought her with you!" Jatfast cried out. "Are all orcs from Twilight Highlands as stupid as you?" Jatfast blurted out. The last remark made Greymur loose his patience when the goblin would not keep his mouth shut. The hunter decided on the spot that he had heard enough warbling, boasting, complaining, whining and moaning for the night. Not appreciating the humiliating way Jatfast talked about his clan.

All he wanted was a quiet evening after he left the tavern, instead he was running around for Jeri all night trying to get information about Jatfast and an incident in a tavern he had not been part of. And here Jatfast went on about why anyone should bother about his welfare! And complain. A fine bunch of friends he had earned himself in Ratchet.

With a low growl, he suddenly grabbed through the bars of the cell. "SHUT IT," he growled as he managed to grab the rogue by the collar of his leather shirt, pulling him roughly towards him. It made Jatfast hang in an uncomfortable pose the way his nose was pressed against the bars. "You keep that miserable yap of yours shut and only tell me what I want to know. GO! From the moment I left the tavern," the orc grunted in anger. Jatfast looked dazed.  
>"Geez, no need to get a temper Greymur, I was only joking with you! You really have no idea what I went through the last few hours," he muttered, still complaining.<br>"You'd probably not want to trade my night," was the sarcastic reply Greymur gave him. "**Now talk**!" He unsympathetic dropped the goblin, dumping him on the floor of his cell. Jatfast rubbed his behind angrily, he finally sat cross-legged in front of his barred residence.

He could be very brief, telling mostly what Hurias already reported. That he had invited three "friends" to their table, one supporting a fourth he did not know. After catching up on some chatting he might have told them about the jade armor set of the woman. Ofcourse he had to boast about the money he could have earned if he would have been able to sell such armor. But he didn't did he? The four individuals left with a strange shine in their eyes after he had said that. Nothing unusual.

"And these same 'friends' of yours did not by any chance have you arrested?" Greymur mentioned. Jatfast sucked in his lips, not looking happy. "Maybe I should not have said that," Jatfast considered too late. Greymur shook his head. "I got arrested right after the other was taken away in chains. The bruisers, they vaguely mentioned something like being charged with assessory," he lamented.

"What assessory?" Greymur had little patience. "I do not know!" The goblin whined in an irritated tone.

"I only got told I was an accomplice to the incident at the tavern, pointed out by somebody. And I do not even know what happened!" The goblin rogue shrugged. "Seriously Greymur, I really do not know," he repeated himself.

"I might ...," the voice sounded clear. Greymur recognized it immediately as her voice. The goblin stared at him, looking questionably, pointing towards the dark end of the corridor. Greymur stood up, taking his torch with him. He slowly walked toward where the voice had come from. She sat in one of the last cells, staring at a dead end. There were no lights in the part where she was, unlike where Jatfast was. How unsympathetic he had been towards Jatfast, nearly really losing his temper and his patience when he saw Riselle in the state she was left in. A sense of responsibility crept up to him. The blood elf woman was sitting with her knees drawn up, her arms tugged around her legs, only wearing the towel to keep her warm.  
>"Miss Riselle!" He knelt at the door, lighting himself with his torch. Dumbfounded that she had not even been given a blanket.<p>

"The orc Greymur," her emerald colored eyes lit up briefly in the light from his torch when she turned her face toward him. He nodded. Her skin was even paler in the darkness of the cell.  
>"I thought I had seen you with the noisy goblin at the tavern," she said quietly. Her smile was conservative when he slowly nodded again.<p>

"I do not know what my jade armor set has to do with your friend, but from the story he just told it could perhaps be related with the people that attacked me in the bathroom in the tavern," she sounded very quiet, not authoritarian, no panic, more like somebody that kept her head clear in a situation.  
>"I do not know if I still remember everything, but maybe my side will help as well," she apologized to him. Greymur looked at her white face, it was framed by long strands of her dark auburn hair. The elaborated style long gone from her locks after Hurias accidentally spilled his beer over her.<p>

"After I went upstairs I decided to take an early night in my room, but I was disturbed by the guests next door. The men I heard did not sound very pleased. So I decided to use the bath moment, like the innkeeper promised me. Besides the noisy guests in the room next to me I do not recall hearing or seeing anything unusual before I went into the bathroom. I even locked the door so nobody would disturb me," she said thoughtfully.  
>"At some point I heard somebody fumbling at the door and before I knew it there were a couple of people standing next to me," her lip quivered when he looked better at her. "Indecency marks some people, as they held no patience to wait for their turn," he heard her say in an acrimonious tone between the soft clattering of her teeth.<br>"Have you called for help?" Greymur inquired. Riselle nodded. "Ofcourse they weren't impatient for a turn in the bathroom," she mentioned. He filed every word she told him I his mind.

"But to answer your question, yes I did scream. I do not simply have to accept that a bunch of shady individuals think they have the right to come in a bathroom that was locked to start with. And certainly not think I'm a lesser opponent simply because I am a woman. It does not make me a hopeless prey! As they assumed differently. I think I can safely say that I have caused one of them a couple of broken ribs and that I do not have to worry about my reflexes. I think he will have a big lump on his head somewhere, marking the spot I smacked him with the handle of my sword before they knocked me out," she said, absently rubbing her head while Greymur grunted.

"Though I'm not sure, I do know they were with more than two. Then again I am unsure whether these were 'friends' of your goblin rogue friend over there," she told him.

"**What she said**! I am clearly being framed Greymur!""Jatfast cried out, sounding more confident than before. Greymur ignored the further cries of the goblin. He looked at Riselle tightly.  
>"Why have they brought you here?" She almost looked embarrassed. "It was said that there was a dead person in the bathroom. But I'm sure I only hit him with the handle of my sword,... honestly." She looked straight at him. Greymur's sense of justice was confused. "I could not see it, they only told me they found me in a sapped state with a big lump on my head next to the bath. And that the one they arrested apparently was no rogue, or he would have saved himself by vanishing in the middle of the act," it sounded logical.<p>

"Yes! A rogue, a hunter and a...I dunno what the last did, but they were all shady," Jatfast cried out. Greymur muttered something about cursed goblins. "I can hear you loud and clear Jatfast," the hunter replied almost irritated at Jatfast.  
>"Oh, sure, fine! I try and help and this is what I get from my friend," he grumbled, dramatizing. "If the hunter does feign death – which should sound ever so familiar to you <em>Greymur - <em>since you are a hunter as well- then the story of that body could make sense," he remarked sharply.  
>"That would be a good point," Riselle said careful. Greymur looked at her again. He did not believe that she killed somebody. His senses told him that, he did not know why.<br>"I must go," he suddenly said and stood up. Riselle looked at him intently.  
>"Thank you, Greymur the orc, for listening to me," she said softly. He bowed to her.<p>

"**Woa woa woa**...! **Where are you going**!" Jatfast tried to get Greymur's attention when the orc passed him with his torch in his hand. "I'm going to talk to the coroner," he said. Face palming himself for not considering that sooner. "**Get me out of here orc! Tell Jeri that I love her and that she should never forget about what we had when I am found dead in here...GREYMUR**!" He wailed with a huge amount of self-pity. Greymur did not hear him anymore. He was already on his way out, or trying to find a way out of the cramped passages that would lead him upstairs.

* * *

><p>Greymur held up a hand against the bright light that poured over him as he stood outside in the early morning. He wasn't sure about how he got himself to find the way out, but to Hazer's surprise he did. Impressed by his skill of direction Hazer mentioned something of thinking of hiring him instead of his last new jailor. The man had looked afraid to lose his job on the spot. Greymur thanked him in a polite way that told the head jailor enough.<p>

He was ever so glad to see him leave.

Outside the Barrens started to heat up again by the bright sun. Greymur suddenly felt restless and heavy in his limbs after this exiting night. "**There he is**!" Jeri's voice echoed in his head. Rena barked when she saw him. Greymur stared at the trio. Jeri looked like she had a good night sleep. Even Hurias looked like somebody with the privilege of a decent amount of sleep. For a moment he lost track of his own steps. His whole mind went blurry, blacking out.

"And?" Jeri would have preferred to shake him when he did not answer her instantly. "Greymur? You like look they wanted to keep you there, what's wrong with that wild look?" Hurias looked curiously at the orc.  
>"The coroner ... and Gazlowe," Greymur muttered in a inarticulate way. The elf looked at him. "Whatever happened?" Hurias asked. Greymur looked at him, his eyes still wild.<p>

"A corpse involved in the tavern from last night. Jatfast being held on conspiring together with the group responsible... something like that. He does not know what. Riselle robbed in the inn," it all sounded like gibberish and nonsense when he summed it all up in a rapid way. Hurias suddenly nodded understandingly. Jeri shook her head.

"What did Hazer do to you? Did he feed you something? I told you not to drink anything in there but will you listen? Nooo,…the poor thing is already talking about the coroner!" Greymur heard Jeri say. He wanted to say she was wrong, that her interpretation of what he said was not what she thought. Hurias made a gesture at him, letting him know he understood what he meant. It was relieving to know for Greymur that Hurias always managed to decipher his cryptically ways when he had to be fast. His head dazed as he looked around.

When he looked at Jeri again he did not like that determined look on her face. She looked at him like a mother would do to a child. Grabbing him by the hand and shaking her head when she pointed her finger at him.  
>"You speak gibberish, whatever Hazer did to you, there is no need to get to the coroner's yet! I do not know what you think it is you need to do at that coroner, but I assure you that ordering your coffin is a tad too early. Seriously you have to be a bit worse off than this Greymur," she said laconically.<br>"Hurias?" Greymur looked at him hopefully. Hurias chuckled. "I get it, I'll speak to him," he reassured him again.  
>"Let Jeri do what she thinks she needs to do, I could not be helped when she ordered me to sleep when you did not return," he said with a grin, meanwhile Jeri chatted about the fact Greymur really had been down in that prison too long and that his brain must have been molded. That he smelled of dirty things and that he absolutely under no circumstances needed to think that he had was ripe for a coffin yet.<p>

She also rattled on about how he could not disappoint Jewels, and that her sister still liked him in one piece. Preferably after a good night rest, shaven and smelling like he bathed with a good amount of soap before she would receive him. And if he would not listen to Jeri, then she would - if necessary- ask her own mother to pull him by his ear, like any mother would do to make him listen.

Normally he succeeded in cutting into the endless stream of words that would come out of Jeri's mouth. Now he was simply too tired. He felt it in everything. In the way his head was spinning. In the fact his stomach rumbled, because he was thirsty, hungry, and he longed for his bed.  
>"Make sure he is tugged in nicely Jeri," Hurias laughed, glowed with pride when he said that, for once not the one who would have to deal with things like this. Greymur threw him an angry glare as Jeri pulled him forward by his large hand. Hurias chuckled when he looked at the orc, almost feeling sorry.<p>

"Take Rena, for security, back up, anything," the wolf looked at the hunter, her head angled as if she fully understood the conversation, her ears up as he ordered her to follow Hurias. She barked shortly. The elf nodded. Hurias whistled Rena like Greymur usually did. The wolf followed him with a low growl, making sure she did not lose sight of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: That's what friends are for.  
><strong>  
>Greymur apparently had desperate need of sleep. He slept very deep and had a vivid dream of his old home.<p>

_From his time in Twilight Highlands, about his few friends and family there. About his parents who were long deceased. About Drahin, the woman he once loved and cared for. From the first moment that he witnessed one of the senior orcs within the clan sit on the back of a tamed black dragon to fly it around the village. Tamed was perhaps not the right word for it, but restrained by the chains that subdued it into an unwilling alliance between rider and dragon, made the dragon do the orcs bidding as he kept it under control._  
><em>The dragon had been a mighty fine looking creature, a dream for Greymur to fly around on. It took a lot of honor and a high rank to be even allowed to consider such a privilege. He knew it was not reserved for lower ranks like himself. The black dragons still in rebellion were slaughtered. Their head placed on a stake and used as a macabre decoration in the village. A warning to others of their race. Their skin used for armor. The thick scales used in everything from decoration to weapons.<em>

_Torth had always fascinated him. He thought the huge obnoxious black dragon never really broke after he was subdued. Not only because the male dragon always boasted and seemed rebellious. He wasn't rebellious enough to be finish off yet. Too challenging to stick a sword through his heart or split his skull in half. Greymur was certain the male dragon had always known when to stop in time. Though Torth warned everybody who came close to him, telling them about the day he would regain his freedom again. And when he would break of his chains, open his wings to fly off, no member of the Dragonmaw clan would be safe. The threat was not taken lightly when Greymur was on duty, by nobody. Everybody believed Torth was capable of his vengeance. Once the black dragon had warned him, as he stood in his chains, glaring at Greymur and his partner doing their night shift and guard him. "Look at you," it said to him, resentful. "You stooped low orc, and they laugh at you. The difference between you and me is, you do nothing!" It mocked him. He did not reply to the voice of the dragon. "You're better off dead, or far away if you can help it when these chains come off….or you will burn too!" It had said to him. His partner laughed, but Greymur remained silent after that warning._

_Fire ... the air was filled with the red glow of blazing fire ... screams of women, men and children when the village burned down. Dwarf infants clung to their mothers that tried to run them to safety. Angry Wildhammer men fighting Dragonmaw orcs. His heavy two handed axe splitting ones skull after another. The rage he shared with others, the taste of blood, the firm grip on the handle of his two handed axe, the weight when he wielded it and swung it towards any dwarf coming close enough in his range. He raged with anger when somebody shot an arrow in his leg. It made him limp in a hurtful way. The attacks continued, days, endless days and endless nights._

_The scenery in his dream changes into another fight. His Captain suddenly yelling at him to grab a flesh hook and get those dwarfs out of the sky. To kill their accursed Gryphon's. While Greymur and others bravely tried to hook the Gryphon's and their riders from the skies others fought on the ground. A Wildhammer mace crushed a bone in his arm when the rider came tumbling down on top of him. Instingtly his hand went to his sore arm._

_ fire…there was always fire..._

The smell of fire fills his nostrils again, real fire this time. Suddenly wide awake. The loud explosion and the sound of a breaking window made him literally jump out of his bed. All the buildings seemed to shake on their foundation.  
>Almost convinced that they are attacked by the dwarfs, or at least by black dragons. Waiting for the screams and shouts to alarm him. There was nothing. No attack, no screams.<p>

Needing a moment to acclimatize, Greymur looks around. Realizing that he was in his own house in Ratchet. The hunter vaguely remembered that Jeri had dumped him in his bed last night.

A second explosion. He could hear the rest of the glass scatter from the windows and fall. He did not know how fast he had to run down the stairs and into the street to see what was going on. Outside it was busy, but there was no panic among the residents. Everybody was watched, fascinated how thick black clouds of smoke escaped from the ruptured windows from Zanak's workshop. Moments later the door opened and they saw a rather blackened, coughing goblin come out of the workshop. His goggles blown to bits by the blast.  
>"Imfine…Imfine," he reported in half muffled half gibberish way, staring at his neighbors, pulling down his goggles and mask that was in front of his mouth to breath in clean air properly.<p>

"**You're fine? GREAT! I will make bloody sure you won't be fine after I'm done with you!**" Ranik shouted at him, emerging from the crowd, grabbing him by his still smoking tunic and pulling him with him. Yelling about the explosion and the chaos he had created again. "This was not a serious combination of cooking and engineering I came up with, honest! Really Ranik! I got asked to invent something, for real!" Ranik did not let him finish, nor shared his enthusiasm. Ranting and raving that nobody was waiting his mess, he continued venturing his anger at his brother.  
>Everyone knew by now that if Zanak had an idea in his head, you'd better hide. Explosions almost guaranteed. If it would have been fireworks, Ranik could have understood, but the weird combination of cooking with engineering simply made him furious when his brother was at it again.<p>

By now most of the neighbors recognized any early symptoms, if Zanak would pace around rubbing his hands together and muttering to himself like some mad scientist before he would lock himself in his workshop to invent whatever it was he had in mind, then they had to worry.  
>His brother usually ignored any early symptoms of the 'inventor's disease' he called it. When Zanak announced one of his culinary masterpiece coming up, Ranik would sigh heavily and warn anybody living closely to the workshop. Master disaster was more like it.<p>

Though today's explosion caused quite a stir, unannounced as it was. It sure gave a blast to the beginning of Greymurs day.

Everyone always seemed a bit off after one of Zanak's explosion. Though they seemed to pick up their daily rhythm soon enough when everything was announces to be safe.

"I swear, I'll blow people's minds with my new cuisine one day Ranik, really! But this time it wasn't cooking that caused the explosion, I was testing something…!" The locals still heard him plead with Ranik as he tried to explain what caused the explosion this time."Let me go back in and I will show you what I was building! You'll love it!" Zanak said in his quickie voice.

"**I'll be damned if you do that again! Enough is enough! I want you to stop this idiotic experimenting right now! It will not be the first time that the wall of the workshop is blown away**! "Ranik yelled. The irony was Zanak had been successful once, with his version of meat on a stick, they still sold in near the docks. Not exactly what he wanted, since he aimed for culinary success combined with his engineering skills, but it was success.  
>While Ranik cursed him and his doings, making clear he had no intention of repainting the whole neighborhood again thanks to Zanaks last explosive invention, Zanak himself tried to reason for his invention. "<strong>I<strong>** do not care if you got asked to invent something! Anybody who has you sign a contract to invent something must be an idiot himself! And you are the greatest fool to think they'll take you serious. Whatever it is you were **_**inventing**_** let me give you some advice…you do NOT cook fish with explosives. Nor do living crawlers need a self-steering-fresh-into-your-cookpot alarm system that guides them to your kitchen…and a stove should work on wood not on freaking dynamite**!" Raniks green tan turned totally red. Zanak snorted offended, his small arms crossed in front of his chest as he heard his brother. Eventually the quarrel ended with Zanak ignoring his brothers rant as he ran off when Ranik wasn't looking, putting on his safety mask and damaged goggled again and straightened his tool belt around his waist before he made a run for his workshop.

It left a yelling Ranik and a curious crowd of bystanders to see how this would end. Zanak did not appear from his workshop slash restaurant again. The place where customers were scarce and the line between edible food and engineering formed a dangerous combination for a goblin with such strange invention dreams like Zanak.

It only added up to the great displeasure his brother showed, as Ranik shook his head in a frustrated way while walking back to his own shop.

Some goblins lead explosive and short lives, how Zanak managed to not get himself killed was a question even Ranik could not answer. But it worried him, every time his brother managed to create something that would blow up. Years ago he held shop with his brother, both busy with their own things. Ranik with his general goods, Zanak with his engineering and his cooking. After Zanak blew up one side of the workshop he shared with Ranik, the other changed shops. He now held his own shop together with the blacksmith. Much safer.

The hardest part was the knowledge he could not do anything about it. Unless Gazlowe would kick Zanak from Ratchet. Until then, it was left the way it was, as long as any damage was repaid or fixed.

"Spectacle in the early morning," Greymur heard somebody say next to him. "Now that is one explosive mood, wouldn't you agree?" Jeri chuckled. "I doubt Jatfast should dare and try that," Jeri said kind of cynical. Greymur looked sideways. He did not even notice Jeri coming over.  
>"If I was his wife, I think I would have stuck his head between his two vises to put a stop to any early craziness," she said firmly. Greymur chuckled, knowing Jeri was capable of that action.<br>"Say, are you always standing in your underwear when Zanak creates another explosion?" Jeri chuckled at him. Greymur looked at her bewildered for a moment when he realized he was hardly wearing hardly anything but his underpants.

The orc looked distracted at the thick clouds of smoke that still emerged from the workshop. It did not seem alarming for the moment. Though the Bruisers were less pleased when they came to see what happened now.

"No, I'm only here because some Jeri left me in my bed like this last night. No idea how you managed to do that," he said in a curious way. "Pff, piece of cake. That wolf of yours and our pretty boy, they both showed strength last night when they helped me push you up the stairs," Jeri mentioned to Greymur as she smirked. So like Jeri to bribe Rena for that and order Hurias around. "You bribed her with treats didn't you?" He said. Jeri looked as if she did not hear that.

"At least you could have dressed yourself a little better before you rushed out into the streets. If Zanak didn't cause a stir I'm sure you did for any bypasser that looked closer then they wanted Greymur," she showed her shiny teeth, one was silver in the left corner of her mouth, tugged away so it wouldn't blink too much. Jeri liked bling like most goblins did, and not only the shine of coins. Jewelry could be valuable accessories, not only to match an outfit. They could be used to trade if you did not have the coin to pay for anything.

"I was not planning to get blown out of my bed by Zanak to be honest, or I would have put on something more than my underwear," he replied with a grin. Jeri giggled. "At least it looks like you slept well," Jeri noticed when his response seemed more in place then yesterday. "That's good, because we have a lot to do," she said and poked him in his side, this time with a pretty dark blue lacquered fingernail. Greymur watched her hands with a raised eyebrow to see that she had completely manicured her nails. How did she always manage do that?  
>"What? I need to look good don't I? I can't be seen running around like you!" She remarked almost accusing. Her smile a perfect one when the orc raised a brow at her. He grumbled at her. "Where is Hurias?" Changing the subject usually helped. Jeri shrugged. "Last time I saw him was when he helped me tuck you in and he made way for the coroner. More out of curiosity, but why were you talking gibberish about needing to go there," she said.<p>

Greymur left her to guess about that when Hurias appeared with Rena.

Hurias had the experience of a lifetime when he came back. The way he clenched his jaw together and frowned with his long elegant eyebrows made Greymur want to hear the whole story in detail, if only to laugh for a bit. The elf came back slightly overwhelmed, meeting up with both of them at Greymur's house.

"And how was your conversation with the coroner?" Jeri's voice rolled through the house like a hurricane as she looked at him with this vague smirk on her face. Rena jumped towards Greymur, two large paws placed on his shoulders. "Disturbing," the elf said, sitting down in a chair.  
>"What do you mean by disturbing?"Greymur's grey hand patted Rena absently as he smiled slightly amused. He scratched behind her ear as she held her head to one side. Her tale wagging. She loudly belched into his face in all her excitement. The disgusting smells of half digested meat snacks rolling into his face.<br>"Bah! What have you been eating! Someone gave you too many treats from the smell of it, snack diva," Greymur turned his head briefly when Rena barked. Trying to rid himself of the smell of her belch. She looked at him, her yellow eyes fixed on him. The orc looked at the goblin and the elf, both of them remaining neutral.

Hurias eventually chuckled uncomfortably. "She liked them so much," he said defensively. Rena jumped up and sat beside Hurias, choosing sides with him as she laid her head in his lap. "Turncoat," Greymur said. Rena looked innocent.

"What news do you have?" He asked, clearly the sleep had done him well, since he was up and ready to solve this terrible incident that kept them busy. Hurias shifted, he looked difficult again.  
>"Did you know that assistant Thumbscrew was a woman?" He asked the hunter. Greymur chuckled, no he did not know that. "Assistant Thumbscrew is both coroner as well as a nurse, a duo job she calls it. But she could not give me any useful information if any of the corpses in her workshop had something to do with the incident in the tavern. She did say she wanted to find out for me if they would bring somebody in. She said she expected a new arrival in the afternoon," he hesitated for a moment. The look on his face indicated that this was very uncomfortable for him. Jeri slapped him on his arm, laughing loudly.<p>

"Boy you look like you're going to piss your pants in fear at any moment now," Jeri said as she looked at him, not believing a visit to the coroner could be so bad. The elf shook his head. "Well, let's say ... she was a bit scary," he said cautiously. Jeri gave him a strange look.  
>"Scary? Adinna Thumbscrew scary? Oh no pretty boy, you got it all wrong, that chick is a blast! Did you know that she was a niece of mine? Actually, a cousin on my mother's sister's side," Jeri told him with a wide grin, making her pink painted lips curl on both sides in a rather disturbing way. The elf breathed through his nostrils after that information, that was exactly the kind of knowledge that did not amuse him.<p>

"Did something happen?" Greymur frowned, trying to keep his face in one piece while he tried to remain serious as he looked at the elf. Hurias was a bit out of spirits as he already noticed, very much more after the uncomfortable notification that the coroner was Jeri's cousin. "Well ... she ... she said she wanted to have a drink with me sometime…and then she squeaked her rubber gloves on in this specific way ...that was quite painful for my ears really. She said that she could show me some..erhm…interested things, since I was so interested in corpses and all," he said quite overwhelmed. Greymur and Jeri snickered together, laughing harder when he did not see the fun of it.

"Jeri, is there someone in Ratchet not involved in your family?" Greymur inquired cautiously. She gave Hurias a slap on his arm for the comment that was made by the orc. The elf looked puzzled at her.  
>"That's for the comment you were going to make pretty boy," she told him without looking at him. "But ..I- I didn't say anything wrong! Why do you always slap me?" The elf muttered softly.<p>

"I'm watching out for your wellbeing pretty boy," Jeri cheerfully said when she saw the grimace Hurias gave her. "And Greymur, you are so good at asking stupid questions sometimes. Ofcourse there are plenty of goblins out here that aren't my family. For more family you need to be in Gatgetzan ofcourse," she said as if it was the most normal thing.  
>"And you Hurias," she looked at him almost pitying. The elf ducked down behind Greymur. "Once they know that you are with me, they will want to know all about you pretty boy. Trust me, I have such wonderful cousins and nieces in my family. They will all want a date with you pretty boy," she gave him a sweet but dangerous smile. Jeri was not a woman you wanted a hassle with, especially not now he knew she had family sitting around everywhere. Hurias did not feel very comfortable with this new knowledge.<p>

"Right, let's get moving, we still have a lot to do, I'll be back in a moment," the orc said with a half grin and disappeared toward the stairs that led to his room. Hurias followed him along with Rena.  
>"Greymur?" He asked, making sure Jeri did not follow. The orc faced halfway up the stairs. "I ... I do not really have to go for a drink with assistant Thumbscrew to get information?" He looked hopeful, not wanting to end himself up in a similar situation identical to the one Greymur got himself into when Jeri made the deal with her sister. Whatever that was. Greymur gave him a stern look.<br>"Boy, if you want information you sometimes have to walk a strange path," he said. Hurias looked terrified. "B-but... I do ... I had no idea," he stammered.  
>"You'll be fine. You'll charm your way out of it I'm sure," he thought out loud.<p>

"Hmmm, I don't know," he heard the elf say, while he looked doubtful. Rena barked at the hunter when he did not move up the stairs. "Oh…but ofcourse you have to…you want to help Jeri out don't you?" Greymur mentioned. The orc had trouble keeping his face straight as Hurias his expression nearly contorted in panic when the orc looked at him. The hunter laughed in a dark way, a sinister grin spreading on his lips. He walked further up, entering his room.  
>"If only you could see your own face Hurias, you would understand why we had to laugh so loud," he said as he pulled open a drawer in his room. Rena went to the foot of the bed, settling on the carpet, her head on her paws. The elf seemed relieved to realize it was all a joke.<p>

"You almost had me there," he said, relieved. "I'll bring Rena on a date instead," he laughed. His face handsome when he smiled. When Greymur turned around to face him this time he did not look pleased. "Feed my wolf any more snacks and I'll really ask Jeri to set you up with assistant Thumbscrew on a date," he promised in a warning way. Both Hurias as well as Rena seemed to feel embarrassed.  
>"Now go. I would like to change clothes, then we can go to Gazlowe, perhaps he will be able to tell us more," the orc said, chasing them both out of his room.<p>

Greymur. Jeri and Hurias were not the only ones that had matters to discuss with Gazlowe. Usually they would be met by one of Gazlowe personal assistants, but somebody kept him busy it seemed. Someone else held two of Gazlowe personal assistants occupied when one of them came into the waiting room, asking if they would mind waiting a little longer until this 'problem' was solved.

The 'problem' made no secret that he felt he had the right to be treated like an important person. Half of the conversation hearable through the door and the thin walls of the building.

"**I want to know where she is**!" The voice of the man sounded angry. "I'm sorry sir, I cannot give you that information," a goblin with a rigid stern face told him. He wore goggles that were cut in half, making the lower part of his eyes look magnified.  
>"<strong>I know she is being held here somewhere! I know she was arrested! You stupid jailor refused to let me in last night! Otherwise I would have found her myself!<strong>" The voice of the man almost spat fire the way he continued.  
>"Even if I would know who you were talking about, then I would still not provide the information," the goblin said, as he watched the elf from over his half goggles.<br>"**I do not believe this**!" the man said in a seething tone.

"Then I suggest you fill out a form for visitation rights at the prison sir, I'm sure if she is kept there you will be able to visit her in about a day or so," the goblin notified the man. The elf did not look very amused at the stiff-looking goblin from behind the desk.  
>"<strong>I demand to speak to someone with authorization in this dump!<strong>" He hit the floor with the back of his staff, making sure the men in the presence of Gazlowe head assistant nearly jumped with fright.

"Sir, for the tenth time. I do not run this place. You need to speak to Gazlowe himself for that. Since he is occupied I advise you to come back later," the man stood his ground, not going to give into the demands of an elf that seemed to think he was owning Ratchet himself.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" The man looked more closely at the goblin. The green man with the half goggled shook his head.  
>"I seriously think I should make a threat to burn this whole place down. Worked well enough for other towns when they refused to hear me. Or perhaps wipe out your small insignificant race as you seem to be rather explosive yourself? Is there anything else that you can do besides dig holes like a mole and blow yourself up?" It sounded condescending. The stiff looking goblin snorted.<p>

"Sir, I warn you, if you cannot behave yourself then I will have to remove you from this office," the assistant warned him. "**This is unheard of**!" The elf roared hysterical. The goblin shook his head.  
>"No, sir, it is not, it's called reason. And since I am not allowed to provide anybody with information unless requested after filling out the proper forms, I suggest you come back at a later hour," the stiff looking goblin said. The elf stamped his foot in anger.<p>

"Guys, what's all the noise about? I cannot even concentrate on my reports," Gazlowe stuck his head around the corner. The elf snorted loudly at the sight of the new goblin.  
>"<strong>I demand to speak to somebody regarding this oaf and his attitude<strong>!" Gazlowe raised an eyebrow when he saw the attitude the man gave him.  
>"Should I call the Bruisers? To remove him?" Was the question his assistant asked when he pointed at the elf. The other goblin shook his head, his grin sleazy. He came into the room, holding a large mug of coffee in his hand and a set of papers in the other.<p>

"What's wrong sir? Perhaps I can be of assistance to you?"Gazlowe asked. The elf looked at him scornfully. "I bet you are nobody important around here? I refuse to be addressed by anybody else then your boss! You clearly do not know with whom you deal here! If I seriously need to make a threat to burn this hellhole down to be heard, it's obvious there is no origination in this chaotic dump. Where is your leader? I demand to speak to him at once!" He said skeptical.  
>"Sir, we are not tolerant of such actions, even though explosions may occur more often than in other towns, this place was built by tinkerers and they have an engineering skill that requires inventions. It will not endangers our goblin neutrality. And I assure you that if you threatening to burn down my port again, I feel inclined to have you arrested, since you DO seem to be a danger to my town," Gazlowe notified him.<p>

"Boss ...?" Gazlowes assistant looked puzzled. The goblin shook his head.

"You are seriously in charge of this town?" The furious looking man pointed from the stiff-looking goblin that hid behind his desk to Gazlowe, who nodded. The whole elf looked very displeased.  
>"Sir, take some advice. You come barging in like a king, claiming that if we cannot immediately help you with your problem you'll burn down the whole place. Now that's not a very pleasant thought. And here you stand still thinking I feel inclined to listen to you? I do not care if you were the Regent Lord of Silvermoon, I would still refuse you, because by right I can," Gazlowe took the next report that was handed to him in between the conversation. His eyes quickly read over the paper while he was shaking his head.<p>

"I think," Gazlowe finally said, and took a swig of the brew in his mug:"that you have very little respect for us and that I am more than tolerant when I say I'd love to talk about your problem, but when you have cooled off a bit. You are very welcome to try again later in the afternoon, this time preferably without threats," Gazlowe said. "Since I run this port -and I do not think our Trade Princess is very likely to come over and solve the mere problem of an elf making a hassle- take my advice into consideration sir. Get out of my sight and come back when you have less anger to venture at us and no more threats to make. Or I will have you arrested for disturbing order and making defamatory statements," Gazlowe said clearly to the man.  
>The blood elf threw his blond hair back over his shoulder with an irritated gesture. Realizing that he had spoken with the boss himself.<p>

"You'll hear from me again…this afternoon," he finally said. With an elegant gesture he pulled his cloak around him, graceful turning on his heels as he walked away with the allure of somebody without any trouble. The man walked through the door, while he looked contemptuously at the trio in the waiting room as he left. Rena growled at him when he walked by. Greymur had to grab her by the tail to stop her from jumping forwards. Whatever was wrong with her he did not know, but apparently she did not like the elf.

"He is free to see you now, this way please," Gazlowes stiff-looking goblin assistant gave a brief smile when he saw Jeri, giving her an admiring look while eyeing her from behind his half goggles. She sniffed, ignoring the compliment.  
>"Jeri, baby, what brings you here?" Gazlowe looked surprised at the sight of the female rogue. She giggled girlishly while Gazlowe put his mug down. Greymur and Hurias wondered what the story behind this would be. Jeri did not let many people call her baby, sweetie or honey. She would rather reward those who did with a black eye instead of tolerating the names. Her laughter died away when she's looked Gazlowe in his eyes, suddenly bursting into tears.<p>

This to everyone's surprise. Jeri was not a woman that would sob like that. They had rarely seen her really cry. She would shed tears, sometimes feign her crying to get what she wanted, but never would she show true tears unless it meant she really felt horrible. Here she was, wailing hot tears the moment she saw Gazlowe.

Jeri cried. About how she had been in fear ever since Jatfast was arrested and nobody would tell her anything. How Greymur tried to help out. And how she had heard that they had found a corpse in the tavern and that Jatfast was arrested for that. They would surely hang him for murder!  
>She shed more tears, telling Gazlowe how she and Hurias could guarantee that Jatfast had not been anywhere near the upstairs area and that he had been with them all night.<p>

Gazlowe heard her, then laid a hand on her shoulder and assured her that the whole incident in the tavern was somewhat exaggerated. And that everything concerning Jatfast would be alright.  
>"Do not worry honey, your guy comes out of prison tomorrow and he will be free again," he assured her again. "Really?" Jeri ran her hand through her bloodshot eyes while smearing out her make-up. She spread the dark line from her eyelids further over her cheeks. Not making herself look very attractive. "Sweetie, don't you worry so much," Gazlowe cooed at her. "It will be arranged, all of it," he promised her. Jeri seemed comforted for a moment. "So he has done nothing wrong?" she asked. Gazlowe was silent for a moment. "It's fine Jeri, baby, really, just believe me," he soothed her. "Now relax at home, we ensure that everything is alright," he had to promise her at least six times before Hurias and Greymur could take her with them.<p>

They were just outside when the stiff-looking goblin assistant came after them. "Mister orc?" The man straightened the half goggles on his nose. "The boss would like to speak with you… privately ," the man said softly, glaring passed Greymur at Hurias and Jeri.

The goblin assistant did not lead him to the room where they had been, instead he lead the orc around a small corridor to another part of the building.  
>"He expects you in here," the man said, he was gone before Greymur could ask him what it was about. The door gave access to a small space. At the window stood Asalt and someone whom he had spoken to last night. "Miss Riselle" Greymur blurted out.<p>

"Greymur the orc," she smiled wearily at the sight of his face. She wore a white blouse with tight black pants that came below her knees. It was probably not her own clothing, as she lacked shoes. He was glad to see that she at least was wearing something more than the towel which she had spent the night in.

"Well, this turns out to your favor Miss Riselle, he seems to know you," Gazlowe turned the chair around as he looked at the hunter with a serious face. Greymur looked surprised. Gazlowe gave him a crooked smirk. Not a moment ago he saw him in his office, and now he sat in a chair in another room. "We meet again," he said with a smirk.

"It seems I did not do wrong when I asked miss Riselle to name anybody she knew around here that would speak up for her...and she gave us your name, to my surprise, so you're just the man we wanted to see," he said, eyeing the hunters expression. The way he said it made Greymur wonder if that was a good thing or not.  
>"Miss Riselle?" Greymur looked at her. She looked unsure for a moment, before she talked. "You were the only one I knew," after that she looked ashamed of herself as she glared into Gazlowe's direction.<p>

"If I understood miss Riselles story correctly, she was victim to a very nasty incident. Something that should not have happened, certainly not with the amount of Bruisers who have a daily job keeping Ratchet safe," Gazlowe said. Greymur seated himself on the stool that Gazlowe pointed at.  
>"I'm trying to run a port here that is highly regarded in both entertainment and hospitality as well as security. What I cannot use are incidents like this," he said, tapping his fingers on the arms of his chair.<p>

"A port this size unfortunately attracts all sorts of people. Alas that also includes dishonorable people. I cannot always see who will turn into a rotten apple after entering my town. Besides, some will say anything to safe their sorry arses when they get caught. Unfortunately there are many more of these incidents like the one miss Riselle was in. Even so I try to have everything looked into and solved with some secrecy, to avoid disturbing anybodies normal routine. I guess we're lucky Ratchet isn't high in the statistics for murder, but more for robbery. It remains a tricky business to keep a town like this clean of scum. I'm sure there will be many more people that unfortunately get attacked in their bedrooms or in the bathroom of an inn. But it does not happened very often that we find a corpse," Greymur did not believe what he heard.

Did he just say corpse? So there was a corpse. "A corpse?" The orc repeated the words carefully as Gazlowe nodded.

"Two to be exact," Asalt corrected him. Gazlowe threw him an angry glare. "Sorry boss," Asalt apologized clumsily. Gazlowe held his hands together, as if pondering the situation for a moment. Laying it out for himself what would be the best way to deal with the hunter and the elf in front of him.  
>"But, to come to the point. You, as a resident of Ratchet, had no business interfering with the investigation we had going on about the incident in the tavern. It isn't for naught that we take about a week or more before we let the whole town know anything specific has happened if it even concerns the crowd. It is called procedure and it takes a damned lot of paperwork to fill out before we can announce anything at all," Gazlowe started, not sounding merry in his statement as he looked at Greymur for that.<p>

"You really had no right whatsoever to speak to any of the prisoners before we could. Which reminds me, you must have made a hell of trade with Hazer to let you in and allow you to speak with them before we could. He is sworn to secrecy when we have not done our research yet, but a mistake is easily made, as we have seen. I cannot do anything about that anymore. Perhaps it is something I need to pay closer attention to. It's this whole damned unofficial system that bothers me," he said. "Anyway, besides the fact there are too many damned networks in my city, you should not have been able to get there before my official route. Good reason to sharpen the rules a bit," he said, distracted for a moment. Gazlowe looked worried before he turned his attention to the orc and the elf again.

"You weren't here to get scolded. Because you're here for another matter Greymur Daggerscar." The tone in which he was spoken to did not appeal to Greymur very much. "If I did something against the rules, then why was I not warned?" He gave Gazlowe a challenging look, countering his points. "I will get back to that, you listen to me orc," Gazlowe ignored Greymurs question. He took a large sip of his drink and looked disgusted for a moment before Asalt refilled the mug with warm dark coffee. The second sip was better from the expression Gazlowe gave them.

"What I want to know is how you pulled it off?" The founder of Ratchet asked him in a curious way. Greymur looked at him, pondering. "We both know Jeri. We all know they are my friends. Her husband, one of my friends, was taken into custody. There were rumors all over Ratchet and speculations concerning this incident. So I was lucky with a trade that appealed to Hazer to be able to speak to Jatfast to take away Jeri's concerns. You know how worried she can be. If I was persistent enough to get in your way I'm sorry, I had no knowledge you were leading an investigation," the orc hunter said, not wanting to mention Jeri was the one setting him up with the deal. Gazlowe could guess when he looked at Greymur.

"You're a bit late to say sorry now, orc," Gazlowe mentioned. "I'm not a bad man Greymur, but I do have rules I would like everybody that lives in my town to abide by. Like I said, a mistake is easily made and consequences will be taking. Since you caused us enough trouble for now." The man put down his mug as he rubbed his arms. Greymur wondered where this could lead to. "Asalt?" Gazlowe said. Here Asalt took over the conversation.

"Perhaps you care to enlighten our nosy hunter into some details," Gazlowe snapped is fingers together, they made a strange sound. Asalt got on his feet, going through some of the paperwork in his hands before he cleared his throat.  
>"Ah yes, the first person we found was clearly murdered with a weapon, from the looks of the injuries she had. Apparently the young lady over there," he pointed at Riselle for that," took her sword with her to bathe that night?"Asalt said with a strange look casted at Riselle.<p>

"Assistant Thumbscrew is still working on the autopsy as we speak, which hopefully will give us some more information about the cause of death. Until pretty boy elf came barging in asking questions in broad daylight about a corpse that was supposed to have been found in the tavern. Your work as well Greymur? Since he mentioned your name to Adinna. And Adinna didn't even receive that information herself yet. That turned you kind of into a problem,"Asalt said, Riselle flinched. She shook her head, horrified that she was the one that had provided him with that information, even though she had not been sure.

"The blond haired pretty boy you and Jeri hang around with mentioned your name more than once when my men asked him about it," Gazlowe said. Ofcourse Greymur understood that. With his elf, they always meant Hurias. "He gave us some things to wonder about when he talked to Adinna. Lucky for us Adinna's soft spot for pretty faces and her work made it diffucult to get her head around the whole concept, so she came to talk to us. So we could fix the problem. Thanks to Zef -for pointing out to me that there was trouble ahead- we could not let you walk around with unofficial information, so we made a vote," the boss himself said to the orc. Greymur felt this was getting more complicated for a normal warning. Greymur wasn't sure he wanted to know what the vote was.

"Like I said, I never meant to cause trouble…it was done out of loyalty to a close friend," he admitted. He never thought of the consequences of his actions, all he wanted was to help Jeri out. Gazlowe was silent, as was Asalt. Though the Chief of the Bruisers smirked at him for a moment, clumsily perhaps, Greymur could not tell, but it felt strange the way they were sitting there. He felt something was about to happen he had no control over.

"As I cannot change the fact you have been nosing around, I can deal with you now," Gazlowe said. Greymur looked taken abashed. "You are a curious orc Greymur, but I know you are loyal, as a friend and a worker," Asalt uttered. "So we decided, since you apparently knew so much already…," the Chief of the Bruisers said in a friendly way. Gazlowe gave him a warning look that shut him up before he continued his sentence. Greymur wasn't sure he liked the sound of whatever it was they kept from him.

"It was decided you would be involved," Gazlowe mentioned, taking over Asalts conversation. Greymur blinked his eyes as he heard the words. Why wouldn't they simply warn him if they wanted him to stay out of this? It didn't make sense to him.

"Why?" he asked. Gazlowe gurgled with a sip of coffee before he swallowed it and looked at the hunter again. "Why not just warn me, I would have stayed out of it," Greymur said honestly. "Like I said, you're a little late for a warning now orc, you were already digging too deep in areas we did not even look into yet. Getting information out that was both useful and not something we wanted spread throughout Ratchet yet. You seemed to be everywhere my men had to go, as they were still cleaning up the mess in the tavern. I got reports you popped up everywhere I didn't want you to be. Hazer pointed you out to us, or actually Asalt already knew it but did not want to give you away, did you Asalt?" Gazlowe looked at him, shaking his head because Asalt tried to delay the investigation to keep Greymur out of it. The orc suddenly understood what Asalt meant by his quest for information.

"I'm I really sorry I couldn't say anything when you came in nosing for information," Asalt said. The orc understood. "Since you kept popping up, you turning yourself into a problem with your involvement, we decide to make you part of it. To make sure you would not be the one creating a huge mess," the accusatory tone came back in Gazlowes voice. "But," Greymur said, not completely understanding. Gazlowe shushed him before he could speak up.

"I understood that you have been doing a grunts work in Orgrimmar and that you were something like a guard in your own village after gathering more information about you?" Gazlowe continued. Greymur muttered, that was only half of it. Asalts grin foretold little good. "Being a Bruiser should not be so difficult for you. I have hired non goblins before. And I know you've worked the weirdest jobs. Now we're doing you a favor." Greymur wasn't sure he was happy with this.

"But," he said again. "Congratulations," Asalts sarcastic voice cheered at him. "You are now officially hired and working for me as a Bruiser! I'm your boss!" Asalts grinned in a disturbing way when he looked at his friend. "Now I can truly make you guard the public outhouses if I want to!" He said with that same horrible smirk. This was their solution? The hunter did not like it at all.

"Asalt!" Gazlowes warning made the Chief of the Bruisers hold his tongue.

"Do I have a choice?" He asked in a dark voice. Gaslowes –no- was a clear enough answer. "What if I refuse?" Was the next question. "You'll get arrested, like Jatfast. Under false presumption with an official pardon when we release you again," was the answer. "Take the job Greymur, it's not that bad!" Asalt advised him. The orc grunted.

"Look at it this way Greymur. You can either thank Asalt for the honors of this fine new job you suddenly have or dishonor him by refusing it. Keep in mind he did some lobbying on your behalf to get you in. And you get to be in places on official terms," Gazlowe said it with a certain irony yet satisfying undertone. The goblin looked at the orc again. "I know that you meant well and that it involved personal circumstances, but you have to understand we needed to take necessary steps as well. It's not always advisable to investigate the problems on your own. Though you seem to have things running well, considering the fact you managed to get where we didn't want you," the big boss of Ratchet looked thoughtful. Greymur did too. He never had trouble with Gazlowe before, this time the trouble had not been entirely his fault. All he did was offer his help. Now he did not seem to have a choice and was spoken to as an inhabitant of Ratchet, making Gazlowes rules count for him as well.

"As miss Riselle over here will be placed under house arrest for now, you will be her guardian," he got told. Greymur nearly choked in a cough. Guardian meant full responsibility of the person that was appointed to you. As if he hear a sudden thunderstorm come down from the skies, he looked at Gazlowe. The man entrusted the blood elf to his care? Giving him full responsibility for her welfare?

He hesitated. "You cannot be serious!" Gazlowe nodded, he could not be more serious. Greymurs thoughts made a spin inside his head. Asalt seemed ever so cheerful when he stood there, jumping from one leg to the other. "Come on friend! Now I can officially fill you in!" Asalt said really cheerfully and patted him on the shoulder. "Besides, it's a nice job being guardian for such a pretty lady! Usually it's the stupid royals that want extra security. They aren't easy to deal with you know that? You'll love it!" He winked at Greymur. It all went a bit too fast for the orc, even Gazlowe noticed that.

"Just listen to Asalt. If he has any unreasonable requests you come to me," he mentioned as he got up from his chair. "You handle this Asalt, I have work to do. Miss Riselle, I hope you enjoy your stay in Ratchet, it seems you are stuck here for a little longer then you intended," he said as he bowed his head slightly to the blood elf. Asalt gave his boss a minor disappointed look when he left the room.

"Oh well, maybe I can't make you guard the outhouses, I can sent you anywhere I like," he said with a satisfied look on his face. "Bastard," Greymur said as Asalt grinned. "That's what friends are for Greymur," he chuckled.

"Great," the orc mentioned with a sour look on his face. Far from amused. "You'd rather be arrested? I can arrange that, but I will have to take pretty miss Riselle here to be guarded around by one of my boys," he grinned, his eyes gleaming. Greymur stole a glance at Riselle. She looked serious when he eyed her. "Don't worry, she is part of the investigation. Which leaves us to open the options to fill her in with so much information miss Riselle might remember anything that triggers a memory that can help us in return," Asalt said.

"So…to fill you both in I guess," Asalt continued, sitting himself down in Gazlowes chair instead of standing around. He instantly lay his feet over one of the arms of the chair, making himself comfortable. He took up his paperwork again, going through it as he let his finger stop at some scribbling that seemed hard to read. "Oh yes, the corpse was a woman in men's clothing," he told Greymur. "The corpse was a woman?" Greymur took a deep breath, Asalt nodded. He never liked hearing about women getting murdered.

"We think she might be one of the prostitutes from one of the brothels. But we do not know for sure yet. None of the owners reported any of their staff missing. She was found in the same bathroom as miss Riselle. What creates some...ambiguities, as the lady herself was found unconscious next to the bath. The only weapon we found belonged to the lady over there," Asalt made a weird gesture after he had said that. "I have not seen any other women in the bathroom while I was taking a bath," she claimed, feeling insulted by his look. Asalt silenced her with a shake of his head.

"Now the second corpse was somewhat more of an amusing story. As it turned out to be some idiot thinking he could get away with feigned his own death, like we would not notice the moment we entered. The one we carried off was a rogue we found, half knocked out - according to the young lady over her – in self-defense," Asalt summed up. He looked at Riselle, he could not believe the woman was capable of really beating that rogue up like that.

"It was self-defense," she said almost inaudibly. Greymur looked at her. Her lips formed the word - I'm sorry - in silence as she looked horribly ashamed of the situation. There was more going on, he could feel it when he looked at her.

"Let's just say there are still too many uncertainties about this incident," Asalt clarification. "Until then I'm your new boss and you report to me," Asalt mentioned again. He seemed to like that idea. Well that was great, Greymur looked far from pleased by all this. He turned to Riselle for some support. She could not give him any.

"And ... now what?" The hunter asked, slightly overwhelmed. "Tomorrow you simply report to the headquarters. I will have your assignment ready. I will fill you in about more details before you come to pick up miss Riselle," Asalts bright eyes seemed to gleam dark. "Tomorrow we make sure that miss Riselle and Jatfast will officially be released. While under house arrest, she's your responsible, also when she tries to escaped. You'll be held responsible as well," Asalt mentioned in that laid back cheerful sarcastic tone of his.

"Fine, anything else?" Greymur grumbled. "You get paid, like all my Bruisers!" Asalt said in a happy voice now. "Don't ever let it be said goblins do not compensate," Asalt assured him, a little too happy with the thought of bossing him around to Greymur's taste. The orc nodded, adding a sarcastic - yes boss- to that. There was a lot of confusion and there would be more confusion if his feeling were correct. And there wasn't anything he could do about it right now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Getting fired  
><strong>  
>The sun showed its face in the beginning of a new day in the Barrens, wrapping the scenery it in a dusty haze of heat very early this morning. Today promised to be one of those scorching hot days. The treacherous ones for people with bad health. Not something Hurias was looking forward to. The wobbly treat the kodo made chook the cart from left to ride as the animal slowly walked on. The way familiar for the animal as the driver hardly had to instruct it. Behind the one cart came several more. The way the kodo made the cart shake caused Hurias his stomach to turn slightly.<p>

"Hey elf, are you okay?" Hurias looked up to one of the goblin workers. The goblin looked at him with this big grin on his face as he poked the one sitting next to him his the side. Hurias looked puzzled at the man, knowing he wanted nothing from the goblin who spoke to him nor wanted to get involved in anything that came from this same goblin.  
>"You seem to be a bit pale around the nose ... oh no, you were always like that. An ugly pink skinned fart is what you are!" The sniggering in the cart was taken over by others. Hurias looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and decided not to respond instantly. They were all here for exactly the same reason and the exact same sort of work. He only needed to keep up five full days with these idiots before he was off for another five. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the beginning.<p>

In the beginning it was awful, the change of scenery, the mine, most of all the goblin town where he noticed again he had trouble fitting in. After he met Greymur it became easier. He learned a lot from Greymur when he thought about it.

He met the grey orc for the first time when they stood waiting for the their ride to the mine. There was always need for miners in Ratchet so it wasn't strange to see new faces once in a while.

"**Hey elf! I'm talking here! Something wrong with those big ears of yours**?" Rigger said, making a flapping gesture with his large hands near his own large ears. Hurias wondered what he came up with this time. Rigger was a goblin worker from another team with few friends. Rigger loved to think he was important within the Mining Company, but he wasn't. Since he never made it to foreman or any other rank.

Get them back with a little sarcasm, Greymur had said to him once. Amuse yourself when they least expect it and think they can amuse themselves over who you are, was his advice. That was easier said than done. But today Hurias felt he could. So he smiled, his face handsome when he did, another thing the goblin didn't like about the elf. "It's good I don't have your ears then, they wouldn't match my complexion very well." Hurias replied. Rigger snorted, not amused by the response Hurias gave him.

"Watch your tongue elf, people won't be so smitten with you now that the big grey stopped coming along the rides to the mine. I heard Gazlowe kept him from the Mining Company and put him to good use in Ratchet. All orcs are peons in the end," Rigger said as if he knew all about it. Hurias was not impressed. Rigger was a troublemaker. He was a great miner, made his weight in ores easily if you let him dig around, but he had a troubled side. Not to mention loose hands and big pockets from the amount of ores he pilfered. He would stick small pieces of valuable ores in his pockets while digging after hitting a good spot. Overseers watched him but never caught him. With his poor personality he held little sympathy for others. The downside to his humor was the fact he thought he was always funny.

Rigger never hid his stupid amusement if he could make fun out of another. As long as he was the one that made the jokes. He usually tried to make Hurias look like a fool during the ride home. Sometimes he would leave the elf alone if he managed to steal enough ores. His eyes would shimmer with a greedy glow, you could almost hear him count how much gold he could earn if he would have the ores prospected by a jewelcrafter for gems. He called it "another honest way of making an extra shiny coin" to his own amusing and satisfying smirk.

Everybody knew, but nobody told. Nobody wanted the trouble of getting a lucrative business taken away as it was done by more than one person. As long as nobody said anything, they could not base it on the stories that were told. Overseers didn't complain if the production of the mine was high enough. But Rigger was watched, and he knew it. So he focused his actions on something else for a while, by making the elf miserable as much as possible during their five days of work. There was nothing better than to provoke the young man.

When Greymur still worked the mine with Hurias, Rigger proved difficult at first towards the two of them. He never hid the fact he didn't respect them. He simply saw them as a shitty grey orc and a scared elf among the true Horde members. But Greymur wasn't caught off guard so easily, unlike Hurias. Who had more trouble finding his way around.

Greymur got back at Rigger with equal sympathy whenever the goblin tried something. Rigger never appreciated when people returned him the favor of making him look like a bad joke. Especially not after that one time he fell in that hot steaming pile of trouble left by a raptor, he never tried to make fun of Greymur again.

It had been a moment where Greymur had the advantage of being an orc, strength and stamina working in his favor. Even though burly like many orcs, the advantage of being tall and able to carry a heavy load while running in the process was his gain. Rigger only had short legs and energy up to his nose before he started wheezing. He wasn't cut out to run fast. Nor cut out to outrun an angry raptor. He had been lucky Greymur was there to pull him out of that pile of shit before the heavy jaws of the raptor snapped and swallowed him.

Ofcourse he never admitted that. Whatever Rigger did not have in energy, he tried to make up with foul mouthed behavior. Showing off with unwanted glares and sharing his displeasure about some of the other Horde races. He did not gain much sympathy that day. Yet he kept trying.

"Why are you even here elf? Shouldn't you be back in that fancy Silvermoon of yours? I would have at least thought you ran with your tail between your legs now the big grey left the mining cooperation," Rigger said to him. "I don't have a tail," Hurias simply replied. Rigger gave him a funny look. "No, but if you had one you would waggle your tail for the big grey orc in Ratchet wouldn't you? Does he own you or something? Are you two…close?" Rigger sniffed loudly through his huge nostrils, his grin missing several teeth, as he found himself rather resourceful in his way of trying to make the elf feel uncomfortable. Instead Hurias looked quaint at him. "Why?" The elf asked. "I'm sure you don't need my help to hook yourself up with somebody." Rigger snorted in dismay, Hurias looked neutral. There were amusing smirks from others when the elf answered him in that calm retorted way. "Bah, you should have stayed away from the mines. Ugly pink skin, or I might not be inclined to be friendly again," he told Hurias.

The elf shrugged. "I wonder Rigger, you're always complaining about my pink skin tone! You're not exactly the prettiest of green yourself the way I look at it. I hope you do not think of taking another dive in a pile of raptordung to get some tan," Hurias replied with a straight face in a polite voice, feeling himself turn edgy. The goblin looked ridiculed by his teammates when they chuckled about that.

"Alright smartass, you think you're so funny now the big grey one is gone? I'll gladly show what I do with a pretty face that thinks he can offend me. I'll give you funny if I get you before the foreman looks our way!" He promised Hurias with a raised fist. Hurias raised a suggestive eyebrow, feeling his heart nearly beat out of his throat by now.

"Give him a break Rigger, now the big grey is gone does not mean that the elf is not performing. Nor gives you the right to treat him like that. He brings in more samples of ore then you do lately." One of the foremen of Team 3, a tall male Tauren with a spotted coat, grinned at the elf. He slapped Hurias in a rather hard way on his shoulders. The elf smiled to him before he painfully rubbed his shoulder and turned his head away to lose himself into the dry landscape of the Barrens again.

Rigger muttered a threat before the foreman gave him a warning glance. Hurias sighed. The work in the mine would go on, whatever the weather, whoever was hired for the job. And there were always people like Rigger.

Today Hurias begun his five-day shift again. Long before sunrise he waited near the gallows where everybody gathered. There they would be picked up and brought to the mine northwest of Ratchet. The corpses that hung from the gallows had been removed he had noticed.

Interesting enough to even give it a thought he wondered what happened to them. In Silvermoon he never paid much attention to things like that. Knowing those who were sentences to death would never be put on display, unless they wanted to shock the community. Silvermoon would never leave a couple of corpses hang for several weeks, until the dry heat nearly turned them into mummified corpses.

In Silvermoon they discreetly removed any dead person before the big crowd ever noticed. Though enough went on in darker places Hurias knew. He accidentally wandered into such a scenery once, when he was sent to fix a hole in the wall of a basement at the tailor shop in Silvermoon. When he walked down the stairs of the basement he found it was divided in different spaces, locked by doors. And he walked into the wrong one.

Deep down in that same basement he knew they kept leper gnomes who weaved fabric for the tailors. The hole in the wall was probably made by one of them to escape its fate before they caught it. He never spoke of it, but it had made him skeptical and uneasy. Wondering about the values Silvermoon gave the lives of the opposite faction if not those of the Horde.

As the waggons pulled up they seated themselves in one of three that were pulled by kodo's before taking off to the mines. The five-day schedule was used for team 3, 5 and 6. They would be fresh on the job while the other three teams would have five days off.  
>Hurias just had his five days off. Too short if you wanted his opinion. Because the quarrying of the mine production and all materials were immediately processed in Ratchet the kodo waggons rode off and on when the production was high. Several times a day they loaded crates with ores into the same waggons that brought them down the mines.<p>

They slept in tents outside the mines, and after five days they would be brought back to Ratchet by the same ride the other teams came back with. Every five days. On and off.

Hurias could feel the blazing toy with him even underneath the cover that was pulled over the waggon. In this heat, everyone liked to linger in the shades of the rocks during their break, before each foreman would gather up their team. Overseers would give them new orders to fill the rest of their shift. Sometimes they changed mine shafts. Sometimes they were sent to the cook to help out with preparation before they would ring the food bell.

And Hurias was so not looking forward to his shifts. He wouldn't mind helping out in the open kitchen again with the cook if he was given the choice. But others didn't mind that either. Whatever they made him do for work, it was his income, providing him with the money he needed to pay for his needs. In Silvermoon he also needed money to pay for his living, here he did the same. Though the payment was better. It did not measure up to the climate of Eversong Woods, that was forever covered in magical and eternal autumn. Far more pleasant then the heat of the Barrens.

Sure working in the mines wasn't exactly the definition of great work, certainly not fun, but it was work. How dull and dusty, the money was good enough to make it worth five days of heavy labor and putting up with persons like Rigger. He had not earned half the amount of gold in Silvermoon back then. With the meager salary he was paid as an apprentice in Silvermoon he could sometimes rarely buy himself proper food.

Dangling down the food chain in Silvermoon had not motivated him to stay. Hurias silently protested to his fate, thinking Silvermoons first priority seemed to lay with showing off as an equal partner at the table of power in Orgrimmar instead of looking after their own people. They needed the Horde he was told. Many said that Lor'themar was trying to clean up the mess their prince had left him. A broken home, people that lost faith and most of all, a new allegiance with the opposite faction they had stood against when they would still call themselves high elves instead of blood elves. Or so it felt to him.

His position did not improve, not for many who were poor, they remained poor most of their lives. Upper classes didn't bother with working classes. Pride was a horrible thing in Silvermoon if you met the wrong people. Circumstances did not seem to change soon under the regime of Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron

When Hurias left Silvermoon the city was bothered by change. Desperate needed change to gain the aid of the Horde now their prince was gone. The Regent Lord tried his best to aim for a better life for all his people. Hurias did not look back with pleasure to his old life.

When Hurias left Silvermoon, he had struggled to find a space to fit in. After various jobs in the transportation sector, he eventually ended up in Booty Bay. There he found work as a sailor on a ship which sailed up and down between the two goblin ports.  
>Unfortunately his sea legs weren't that great and he chose mainland rather than the wild waves of the sea. Setting foot in Ratchet felt like switched ports only to find himself stuck in another town he did not want to reside in.<p>

Looking for a proper job, he came across somebody at the bank who helped him out when he stashed his belongings there. The man pointed him out to the large board to the side f the bank when he asked around for work. He was surprised to find so many need for work in Ratchet.

There were many things posted on that board; From warrants promising large sums of gold for handing in the head of certain pirates, to somebody who asked for help in the household where payment was done in the natural kind of way to his blushing surprise.  
>Lucky for him there were also normal jobs. Apprentice for the blacksmith. Help needed in the kitchen of one of the casino's. Jobs requiring brothels.<p>

It was especially the amount of money that interested him in applying for the job for the mines when he read the pamphlet. A pickaxe could be handled by everybody right?

Well...maybe not everybody he noticed. Since he had serious trouble the first time he handled one. The thing heavy and strange in his hands.

The first weeks were pretty horrible. He had sore muscles everywhere and pain in his arms, blisters on his hands that kept opening. He regularly emptied his stomach when he found he could not stand the food they served during his shifts. He had lost serious weight in a consideration amount of time that he could not miss. Horrified by his own sweat stench after work he felt like an abomination with the smear and dirt he returned in from the mine after a full five day work shift.

With a lot of difficulty he got himself look representable again by washing his clothes and trying to get the filth out of his beautiful blond hair. Since he was the only elf, he was often ridiculed. Told he was vain and pretty as any girl. He never got used to the nasty jokes some tried to get away with. For some reason they always presumed he was not offended because his people seemed to be uptight according to Rigger. With their nose high up in the air as they ignored the other Horde races. Hurias didn't believe that to be true, not all elves were like that. It was true little held love for blood elves, but there were plenty that tried to fit in the Horde and were welcomed by trying. The rest of the miners didn't seem to bother about the fact he was an elf. Not anymore at least. They mostly consisted out of orcs, tauren and goblin workers.

There had been a time he nearly threw in his pride and wanted to quit. Until he met Greymur.

The orc was a stranger like him, standing with his wolf pup waiting near the gallows for the waggons to arrive one very early morning in Ratchet. The grey orc looked as much out of place as he did, considering his dark grey skin tone in the group of frequent green.  
>Oddly enough, they got along in the end. The moment Rigger thought it necessary to try and hurt him, Greymur backed Hurias up.<p>

Working with Greymur made the work less tedious. And Greymur was a man of interest and insight into many different things he learned. He showed him how he could use the pickaxe in a better way than he had done so far. The orc seemed to pick it up with the ease of wielding it like any two handed weapon. The elf was inexperienced with weapons, besides daggers and knifes perhaps. Throwing in his weight as he hacked away with the pickaxe he showed Hurias he could perform better.

Greymur wasn't a man who would sit down and be grumpy all day long like Hurias was in the beginning. The orc sat himself down if he had to dig in a low place and dug for ores with discipline. Orders were orders.  
>Although there were many other orcs working in the mines, he did not seem to have much contact with the others of his kin. Something Hurias found curious at first. Even though he was an orc as well, they seemed to avoid him.<p>

In a later stage of their friendship he understood that the other orcs had a skeptical attitude towards Greymur because of his clan. About bad things from the past Hurias did not quite understand. About complications between orc clans and the old and new Horde. To him there was only the Horde he knew now.

So Greymur was a little bit like him, first gazed upon with great suspicion. Not very welcome in their midst. Though they did not dare fool around with the big grey orc as he was called. They eventually left the elf alone as well when the big grey orc started hanging out with the elf. They even seemed to be friends after a while.

Yet Greymur never seemed to linger long on the nasty responses they gave him. He would not let it work against him and certainly not against his good mood if he had one. On the contrary. The grey orc kept surprising Hurias in his behavior. Especially if their team had no shift and they had some time off. He found that the grey orc occupied himself with tasks instead of lingering in the shade. Hurias also found the grey orc could be a tad sarcastic when he drank a bottle of rum. A bit too loud as well if he drank too much. He always became a little bold, capable of funny and crazy things. Such as chasing a herd of gazelles in the middle of a field filled with angry raptors in their breeding season.

Outwitting a small raptor, and living to tell the tale was not something anybody could do. The first time he did it he was lucky that their foreman used his shooting skills to put the raptor out of his misery before it feasted on Greymur's drunken appearance. Though the team could laugh about it afterwards, some spoke admirable of him. "A fully grown raptor would have eaten you alive," Rigger had boasted, as if he could outrun any animal with his short legs. Greymur gave him a half grin, feeling slightly hangover from the booze. He asked if Rigger could do better. Before they knew it there was a challenge for the grey orc. There was little you could hurt his feelings with, but never offend his clan, or he could become nasty.

To Hurias it seemed he held a lot of pride in being part of the clan that was shunned by others in the Horde.

The day Rigger fell in the pile of raptor shit was a day Hurias would never forget. Because Rigger said things that triggered Greymur's bad side. That he said that being a hunter was only a humiliating skill that was taught to those who could never learn another occupation didn't do the trick. When he said that Zaela was the biggest joke for a warlord since Garrosh appointed her he stepped on somebody's grey toes.

Zaela apparently was somebody important to Greymur. A woman held in high esteem. Hurias never really understood how important, but to the grey hunter the woman seemed very important since she was their clans warlord.

The day the goblin got himself stuck in that steaming pile of raptor shit when he tripped after Greymur chased him in anger. The orc warned him to stay out of his way when Rigger said some more nasty things about the Dragonmaw clan. Thinking his friends would back him up he ended up running for his life. Straight through that same field of raptors in breeding season. After that Greymur wasn't his biggest concern anymore and he tried to run to avoid being eaten.

Even to Greymur there was no honor in being eaten by a raptor. When Rigger tripped the orc pulled him out of the pile of shit. The tauren foreman had to show off his shooting skills again to put the second raptor out of its misery and to scare off the rest when one fell. That Greymur pulled him out and the tauren foreman saved his sorry arse was Riggers luck eventually. Rigger had a hard time coping with the fact the tauren saved his sorry arse. The gloating of the orc didn't exactly help improve his mood.

He crawled back into his shadow when none of his friends were there to help him out. So he had nothing against Greymur besides an even bigger hate for the grey orc. Accusing him of the fact he had to run for his life that day.

After the second raptor was shot the foreman divided the meat among those who were present. Everybody got a small share. That night Hurias and Greymur ate raptor stew. Greymur did the honors. The goblin cursed him over dinner with everything he could find for tricking him. Greymur had simply shrugged, offering him a bowl of raptor stew which the goblin declined with a dirty look on his face.

Hurias loved that stew, prepared with the local herbs found near the mine. Rigger could not stand that. Not the food, not the attitude of both orc and elf. It made him look more hateful then before. Brooding away like that.

Greymur turned out to be a hunter, Hurias learned over time. The wolf pup Rena was his first pet.

Rena was adorable back then, with huge paws, a fluffy head of red brown fur, an ear that would not stand up straight and a tongue that lolled to the side of her mouth whenever she had been running. Although animals weren't very welcome in the mines, she was tolerated because she brought in food. Small game if she went on her own, hares, rabbits, birds. Greymur prepared the meat into different types of food.

First the orc cooked only for himself and Hurias because the others did not trust him. Funny enough the grey orc did not like any of the food served out here either. Not that orcs were known to be great cooks, Greymur seemed to know his way around with meat and herbs. Together with the elf he prepared his own dinner. They managed to come up with better tasting food then the angry cook in the camp could provide for. With his hunter skills they caught things easily enough while off duty.

After he showed Hurias to skin a prey the elf helped out fast enough. Overcoming his nausea for the disgusting task of chopping up the dead animal.

There were plenty of edible creatures, vegetables and herbs out in the Barrens.

The food, the campfire, the hunt, it all made a difference for Hurias. Greymur made it easier to fit in. He told Hurias he was aiming to visit different places. Not sure which would be next, he settled in for a short time to earn some money before he would leave and move on.

When others started to share the campfire, bringing drinks in return for a bowl of whatever it was he made, the orc seemed happier they didn't ignore him anymore. That Greymur could not take so much alcohol was not taken against him by those who were willing to change their view about the two strangers. People shared stories, as he sometimes returned them one of the glorious tales about his clan against the Wildhammer dwarves. Stories of the Horde against the Alliance always did well when the work was heavy and the muscles were sore.

Some told funny stories of home, others shared family drama's that crossed their paths. And if they were off for five days, Greymur gave him an excuse to meet new people. First Asalt, then Jeri. Later he met Jatfast.

Greymur had appeared in Ratchet not long after Hurias. The hunter settled in nicely when he was offered the house uptown. Much better then Hurias his noisy chambers near one of the lesser taverns. He was still ever so grateful for the fact he got a friend in a place like Ratchet. Otherwise he probably would have returned to Silvermoon to pick up the pieces of his old life.

But when Gazlowe noticed Greymur was not lazy he picked him out for other chores. Sometimes a bouncer job, other times a job on the wharf. Nothing he needed Hurias for unfortunately. Which meant that the blood elf was alone again when he went for his five day work shift.

The angry cook did not turn out to be so angry when Hurias was ordered to help him out. All the man wanted was a little credit for his cooking. Even though they didn't have the grey hunter around anymore, others could shoot a bow or bring in a prey for dinner. Hurias provided the right herbs like he was taught together with the cook and some others with a skill to pick plants.

Rigger loathed the chores in the kitchen, trying to trade somebody a shift for his kitchen shift he usually got plenty. The elf loved it. Now he had contacts in Ratchet it was enjoyable to ride back home. Given a reason to stay a little longer in a town like Ratchet.

"Hey elf, we're here," the same tauren from earlier tapped him on his arm. Hurias looked at him absently. "I think Rigger was only fooling around earlier, his mouth is bigger than his brains," the tauren grinned at the elf. "Obviously," Hurias said with a smirk as he looked at his foreman. A herd of gazelles ran by from a distance. Both Hurias and the tauren looked at the sight.  
>"It is unfortunate that big grey is no longer working with us ey, elf?" He said with a wry face. Hurias nodded. "Otherwise we might have had gazelle stew tonight," the man sighed and climbed out of the waggon. Hurias nodded, that was indeed unfortunate.<p>

* * *

><p>Assistant Adinna Thumbscrew was a versatile person. Not only was she an accomplished nurse and assistant to the local healer of Ratchet, she also did other activities such as autopsies. And that was sometimes needed in Ratchet. With a prosperous port sometimes unfortunate things happened, like an accident or a murder - which in either case the unfortunate family of the diseased had to be informed off - if the person in question still had any relatives or family that wanted to know about the unfortunate matter of death.<p>

Adinna would cut the deceased person open to see if she could find peculiarities that could suggest new clues for the death of the person that you could not see on the outside. Sometimes it led to very different conclusions than the outside of the dead would display. If she really had no other choice she would work with apothecary Helbrim from the Crossroads. Although she would rather avoid the man, mostly because of his decomposing stench, he had done her several favors by running tests she needed after an autopsy. He had amazing abilities as an alchemist.

Adinna also liked to experiment. With her parents introducing her to skinning and killing prey for the hunt she was not afraid of picking up a knife. But Adinna wanted to know more. She wanted to know what the insides looked like. Her first knowledge was therefore derived from the self-decomposition of small rodents such as rabbits and squirrels. The fascination for the inner person intense. Eventually she made her job out of her fascination for death. She called it grubbing into ones internal system, as she always said with a smile. Not really a job to go into detail about.

"Are you ready?" Jazira, the young human assistant, was already waiting in the hallway for assistant Thumbscrew to arrive. She looked a little nervous. Adinna laughed encouraged at the woman. "If you want to be a healer you should also know how to take care of the dead," she said with a smile. Jazira just nodded. Adinna thought she was a bit of a timid female.  
>"Do not worry, there isn't really anything that can go wrong here," assistant Thumbscrew said with a grin. Today she had an autopsy that she would do with assistant Jazira.<p>

Jazira was still studying to be a full assistant and needed to be taught some of the skills that she seemed to lack or avoid so far. Wanting to be a healer made the local healer decide Jazira was ready for some dead action instead of trying out her healing skills today. "What kind of program do we have…exactly?" She inquired as neutral as possible.  
>"A young lady, the one they found at the incident in the tavern," assistant Thumbscrew said and led her through a door that led down a hallway and a set of stairs.<p>

The dead woman was found by the Bruisers after they entered the tavern and rushed upstairs. The rogue they found was so knocked out that he was still recovering in the infirmary. The other 'corpse' was some idiotic hunter they arrested. The human hunter had tried to feign death to save his skin. And the dead woman they had found ... that was quite a puzzle.

"I ... is it…very dirty work?" Jazira inquired cautiously. She had to bend down sometimes as the hallway was low and more for small individuals then for human size.  
>"Oh no, it's actually quite interesting, if you look passed the goo, the guts and the blood!" Assistant Thumbscrew chuckled at the sight of Jazira's dubious face. They descended to her workplace, deeply carved into the rock of the mountain that Ratchet rested against. It made a nice and cool environment. Especially since she had received the converted snowmaster 9000.<br>If there was something that she was sure of out here in the heat of the Barrens, it was the fact you had to cut the normal estimated time for a corpse to dissolute in half. The chemical reactions were extremely fast out here. And with the heat and the insects attracted to any dead stuff all you had left was a pile of bones to do your research from if they needed you to investigate a murder.  
>Usually they had already buried the dead in order to avoid the stench. But Adinna had a great idea submitted to Gazlowe. And the big boss gave permission for it.<p>

Gazlowe had told her, when she came to him with her idea, that it would be a delicate object to build. But with a little inventiveness of a group of engineers and the zeppelin specialist they made a capable group that created a clever solution and combined their collective technological knowledge to solve her problem. They built her a device that would help cool down the temperature in the room below freezing point.

She could have the machine make the room so cold that you could not work without a coat. All they really did was re-use a boiler from a broken zeppelin and some of its other parts for this purpose. Adding a little weird things here and there, converting it a little, like they did with the snowmaster 9000 and linked the whole bunch of difficult couplings and clutter of air hoses together.

The biggest difficulty they had was with cultivation the snowmaster 9000. Because the thing would only produce one snowball a day, the zeppelin specialist used other parts of the broken zeppelin to engineer and adjusted the production rates of the snowmaster 9000 to multiple. Endless really.  
>It was a life-threatening and very danger device the first time they ran a test run with it. The snowmaster 9000 was so badly adjusted the tester had no control over the speed of the snowballs the snowmaster 9000 produced. The effect created semi-soft snowballs that just exploded in your face. Eventually apothecary Helbrim traveled from the Crossroads to Ratchet, offered a solution of a modified frost elixir that he had worked on. With that last ingredient the snowballs stopped exploding and they adjusted the snowmaster 9000 precise production. Now it cooled her workspace perfectly.<p>

She was very happy with it. The undead apothecary had mentioned he would have liked such conditions in the Crossroads as well, if only to stagnate his decaying process before he had to sew on another arm to himself. So occasionally he came over to use Adinna's workplace if he wanted to test his alchemy potions in cold conditions.

"You know, you have to start somewhere, dirty job or not," Adinna said to Jazira. The woman gave no answer to that remark. Once arrived at workplace assistant Thumbscrews flipped the switch on the outside of the door and waited or the machinery to start working. All she had to do was look at the meter to see how cold the temperature in the room was. The usually had to warm up, giving a soft humming sound and causing the lights to flicker of and on for a while. In that time assistant Thumbscrew and Jazira took the necessary precaution before entering the cold space. Then Adinna would turn the switch back to half capacity, so the machine would not make an overproduction and they would freeze to death in her workspace. With a proud smile she entered her cold workspace. "C -cold," she heard Jazira clap her hands together to expel the cold from her fingertips. "Oh, it you'll get used to it," she hummed as she pulled her gloves on a little better. Jazira frowned when she looked around.

The body of the woman lay on a table covered with a piece of cloth. On the other table the suspected murder weapon lay for examination. Adinna whistled through her teeth when she looked at the Darkened Broadsword.  
>A beautifully shaped two-hander with an emerald sheen, with elegant decorations on the blade and the handle itself. The blade was not straight like most weapons she had seen, but ran into a slight curve and ended in a sharp point at the end. It was nevertheless a sharp sword and well maintained. It did not feel very heavy when she picked it up. With a smile she carefully but it back on the table again. She was not trained in weapon skills for something like this.<p>

"Here, you can write down everything I say," assistant Thumbscrew said to Jazira. She handed the woman a notebook and pointed out the details of what she had noticed about the weapon. "Soon it will be more fun, once the cutting starts. But before that we get to do a comparison with the weapon and the wounds, to see if they match" she beamed when said that, looking at Jazira. The woman did not look very confident with that information. Adinna circled the table with the body as Jazira tried to keep track of her. Assistant Thumbscrew gently pulled away the cloth to look at the body before she would start.

The expression on the woman face was hard to describe, maybe the excitement of the moment she was stabbed was best describing it. Jazira turned white when she saw the body and held her hand over her mouth to hide a shocking sound. Assistant Thumbscrew ignored it and walked around the table again. "Write down," she told the young woman who seemed to have difficulty keeping her breakfast down.

"Young adult female, human origins, slim build, light complexion, long dark brown hair," she heard the pen scratching over the paper in a difficult way. Most likely because Jazira was nauseous.

Assistant Thumbscrew thought for a moment when she looked at the dead woman again. It could be an optical illusion, so she tilted her head to take another good look to be sure before she would point out what she saw. She smirked at Jazira. "Do you notice anything about the woman?" She asked Jozira. The woman shook her head. Whatever it was what she had to notice, she did not and would rather not see it.

"We will measure her," Adinna said with a sigh. "Why?" Jazira wanted to know. "Because I want to have an indication of how tall she is or rather, was," assistant Thumbscrew said, losing her patience slowly. Jazira wrote the word 'length' down, marked with a question mark at the end. With a ruler and some guesswork assistant Thumbscrew came to the conclusion that the woman was indeed very small for a human. She grabbed one of the arms of the young deceased woman. Jazira looked horrified at assistant Thumbscrew when she saw her do so. The goblin woman looked doubtful suddenly. The skin did not feel like that of a person that was deceased. What Adinna also found was the strange yet faint blue color complexion of the skin when she looked more closely. When she took a few steps back, it looked like the dead woman was dressed in a blue glow. Not the pale gray tone a dead human usually got after they were deceased.

"We're going to turn her over," she said. Jazira looked difficult. "Why?" It was the way she stood there that made assistant Thumbscrew annoy the most, that the timid looking woman was almost waiting to vomit her guts out as she looked on the verge of getting sick due circumstances. "Because we need to check everything," assistant Thumbscrew did not really know why Jazira had volunteered to learn the job, as she made a very pour assistant with this attitude. It probably had to do with the healer that inspired her so much.

The young woman needed to be encouraged several times before she nodded and stepped in to help turn over the dead woman with a horrified expression on her face.  
>When they turned her over Adinna raised an eyebrow. The skin on the back was intact and she showed no signs of corpse stains. Again, the skin seemed to have a faint blue glow to it. They gently laid her back.<p>

"Write down: no corpse stains, but strange faint blue glow on the skin," Jazira nodded. The young woman said nothing, she only wrote diligently. Assistant Thumbscrew looked at the dead woman on the table again, wondering.  
>"I don't know about this," she said doubtfully. Jazira looked at her, puzzled. "After a person is deceased there should at least occur body stiffness after a couple of hours. But it almost seems like that hasn't happened here. And then there is that weird blue color of the skin, which I cannot identify, " Adinna grumbled. Jazira simply stared.<p>

"You feel her arm, then you know what I mean when I say her skin does not feel like any other dead persons dead skin," Jazira looked scared at assistant Thumbscrew. The goblin muttered, se clearly did not have to expect much from a person like Jazira. So she did a reflex test and was amazed by the results. "Write down: want second opinion," the human woman wrote it down quickly and looked questioningly at assistant Thumbscrews. "Does this mean that we are not going to… cut?" She almost sounded relieved when she asked that. Assistant Thumbscrew nodded.

"We are unfortunately already finished, well, until I get a second opinion," she mentioned with a crestfallen face. If Adinna wanted a second opinion it really meant that she had doubts about certain details before she wanted to continue. First she wanted to talk to Gazlowe about this, then she wanted to have apothecary Helbrim to take a look at the corpse and tell her what he thought. And then, if she could help it, she would continue the autopsy without the need of Jazira 'enthusiastic' expression twisting to compulsive hideousness when she was asked to do something or tried not to vomit. She did not mention this to the woman.

* * *

><p>"Hurry it up Greymur!" Jeri did not give much opportunity to lock the door of the outhouse she nearly pulled him out off. In fact she did not even give him the opportunity to close the door at all even after he was already out of the outhouse. As much as he liked her, he was really hoping for some Jeri- off time this morning.<p>

"Come on! You can take a sit in your smelly outhouse in your own time! We have to hurry and pick up Jatfast," she nearly jumped up and down as she looked at him. Greymur shook his head at the sight of Jeri's discontented face.

This morning at dawn Greymur had reported himself to Asalt, before the others would come in for their shift, and was told that Jatfast would officially be released from prison free later in the morning. Riselle, that was another matter. That would take some more details before they could release her, especially since he was her appointed guardian for now. So he let Greymur bring the good news to Jeri and told him to come back later around noon. By then Hazer would have all of Riselles discharge papers officially ready and ready for him to sign as he would take over custody.

"Oh I'm so glad he finally gets released! I swear, if I find the person who is responsible for this, I'll cultivate his face into pulp for free," Jeri solemnly promised as she cracked her knuckles noisily. Greymur gave her a timid smile, it was good she did not know everything yet. "Luckily I have you to assist me when I have to talk to that jerk Hazer about releasing Jatfast! That man always gives me the creeps. It is not good for a woman like me to be alone in a room with a man like Hazer. He always gives me the feeling he wants to jump me…you know," her dark green painted lips became a stripe as she looked angry. She clawed in mid air with her black lacquered fingernails to imitate a lion jumping at its prey.

Greymur looked at her with a grimace. Today Jeri was as fickle as the weather. He found her hard to read. Perhaps it was good that she did not know everything and that she would cling herself completely to Jatfast once they collected him. That would provide him the least of trouble now she was having these emotional swings in her mood.  
>"It will be fine," he said. She nodded, giving him a radiant smile.<p>

"Hurry up! I want to leave that place as quickly as I can and enjoy the day for as long as possible with my sweetheart," she said and pulled Greymur by the hand impatiently.  
>"Where is our pretty boy anyway?" The irritated tone in which she said it indicated that she really had no idea of presence or whereabouts of the others. Apparently she had not noticed that Hurias had left for his five day shift again. Right now Jeri was mainly concerned with herself. And at this moment Jeri's world consisted mainly out of Jeri, Jeri time and all the emotions she had bottled up in the few days Jatfast had been imprisoned. Normally she was a bit easier to handle than this.<p>

"You behave!"Greymur warned Jeri when they finally walked toward the prison. She blinked her eyes and looked at him innocently. "What are you thinking of me Greymur? I am the perfect example of good behavior!"she said it with a subtle smile. He had to chuckle. Jeri was really as changeable as the weather. Hazer opened his doors without any problems. He grinned when he saw the gray orc again but said nothing. Instead he turned to Jeri. "That loudmouth of yours is waiting in the reception area. Just sign here and here and you can bring him home ... Jeri, unless you'd rather have him remain behind bars a little longer... I think he was quite enjoying himself here," he said with a charming smile. Jeri looked at him with disapproval when he said that. She snatched the pen from his hand and scratched her initials on the two forms.  
>"So! This you can stick up your arse, you dirty minded person!" She scolded him and made a rude gesture with the pencil. Hazer laughed out loud and looked at Greymur. The orc shrugged while Hazer led them to the room where Jatfast was waiting.<p>

Jatfast was more than happy to see her. The slobbering and distasteful smacking sounds of their kissing from the moment they left the prison till they were in front of the bank worked in Greymur's wrong mood. He was particularly happy that they were finally reunited and chose to leave him for what he was to take the day to themselves. Jeri forgot to say goodbye, but Jatfast winked as he gave Greymur thumbs up before they took another turn into an alley their house was in.

He would take the little time he had left to himself and walk home, accompanied by a jumping Rena beside him. Glad he finally could rush to more important tasks that awaited him.

He took a deep breath when he finally stood before The Dark Alley that afternoon. Rena had noticed his change in mood. With a wet snout she tapped against his grey fingers. Whining softly as he looked at her. "What do you think Rena? Is it going to be alright? " he asked her, she barked at him, pushing her head under his hand. He patted her behind the ears with a grin.  
>He took the step, into the direction of the headquarters of the Bruisers, with lead in his shoes. Knowing that he was stepping into a situation he had no control over and no idea about. Rena barked enthusiastically when she found herself walking in the direction of the headquarters. If Less was there, it meant a treat according to Rena!<p>

When Greymur opened the creaking door Rena jumped inwards rather than let Greymur step in first. She instantly ran towards the counter, finding Less sitting behind it. She was already sitting at Less his side before Greymur could call her back.  
>"He's waiting for you at the back," Less said, pointing backward with his thumb. The large wolf was drooling beside Less, waiting for him to open a drawer and produce a treat. Greymur sighed.<p>

"Rena will keep me company for a while won't you girl? Then your boss here can have a talk with my boss and does not need to worry about you," Less cooed at the big she-wolf. Greymur left it the way it was with a sigh. Rena was a snack diva. He was more concerned that she would turn into everyone's friend when receiving treats from certain individuals such as Less and Hurias. Although her friendship was depended mostly on the goodies she was offered.

He poked his head around the corner, seeing Asalts sit at his desk. The goblin already amused when he came in. He was not alone. There were two Bruisers with him."How was Jeri?" Asalt wanted to know.  
>"Let's say I do not really need to know how nice they get along now Jatfast is free," he remarked dryly. The goblins grinned wickedly.<br>"Rena keeps Less company, that's good, he loves that, and we have a lot of details to discuss," he told Greymur and offered him a chair. "Guys, get the pretty young lady and say your goodbyes to her, because she is going to leave our dump for this guy and his ugly head," he grinned at the joke. The two Bruisers nodded at Asalt and left.  
>"Interesting young lady, your Miss Riselle," he noted. Greymur wondered what more he knew. The grey orc knew little. She was certainly not his miss.<br>"Coffee? Now that you are one of us you really need to try the coffee Greymur," Asalt said with that wicked grin stuck to his face. Greymur shook his head. He did not like the weird smelly black water they called coffee here. "Then we'll get straight to business," Asalt said and pulled open a large folder filled with paper.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Not happening**

Riselle paced up and down the room that was locked with a heavy door. Her feet hardly made any sound on the stone floor that looked solid enough to leave digging a tunnel out of anybody head who thought of escaping. "You need heavy explosives or at least a pickaxe to make a start," his voice sounded neutral. She looked at the white stone on the floor, not doubting him. The small window at the top of the room was barred. There was a table, two stools and a jar of water placed next to two stone mugs with cracks from sever use. The knock on the door startled her as somebody unbolted it from the outside. A Bruiser carried a tray with two plates, whatever it was it smelled good and it seemed hot as small swirling clouds of steam came from the plates.

"Place it on the table, thank you," the man said and nodded for the Bruiser to leave them alone. She stopped pacing around the room when she heard him poor the water from the jar into the mugs. "Join me for dinner miss Riselle? I'm sure you are hungry?" Hungry was right, she had not eaten anything proper since the night she was arrested. The steel loaf of bread and the dirty water served in prison were nothing you could call proper food. They didn't make any exceptions for females, why should they she figured. The bread was so hard you could easily break your teeth on it. The water so dirty it could be mistaken for something else. She refused to drink and eat, only if she had to. This smelled nice, warm, fresh, prepared with care.

"It will get cold if you keep pacing up and down," he said to her. Food was the magical word right now, she sat herself on the stool while she looked at him. Asalt rested his chin in his hands, watching her. "I bet you never had dinner with a goblin before," he laughed, she only smiled. It did not ease the mood when she took the first bite and he remained silent as he observed her.

"Perhaps," he said, "you can enlighten me miss Riselle, while we eat. Because I do not know what to make of you and your case," he said, trying to smile confidential. Goblins didn't do well in trying to create a confidential environment she thought. "What is so curious about my case that you come to my prison in person mister…Asalt?" She pronounced his name with care. He smirked casually. "Do you have any enemies miss Riselle?" He asked her, while taking a piece of the meat from his place and tearing off pieces of it. It still dripped with the juice they used to give it the crusty skin. Goblin barbeque was the best according to Asalt. But he had made sure the cook didn't serve the blood elf the greasy meat but something prepared a little more to elf standards. She did not complain, he hoped it wasn't because she was too hungry.

Eating it with dignity was what she did, taking in bite after bite. Enjoying the taste. He devoured his with more goblin table manners then she did with her elfish ways.

"So no enemies?" He repeated the question. She shook her head. "Not really," she first said, shrugging when he looked at her. "Not that I know of…," was the next reply. The way she tried to go around the subject by shrugging and trying to keep her face straight while swallowing her dinner did not convince him enough to truly believe her yet. "Fair enough," he said when she seemed to grow restless as he watched her. "Do you remember anything after they knocked you out?" She shook her head, she didn't. He could tell she wasn't lying. "You're not good at lying are you?" The notification of that made her blush fiercely. He simply grinned.

"Am I going to be charged with murder?" Her fear spoke for her. "They hang people for murder here," he told her instead, to see what she would do. She took a deep breath instead of panicking. "They do in Silvermoon for reasons as well, only they do it in private though," she said. Asalt tried to read her. "What are you miss Riselle? A paladin perhaps?" He wondered out loud, leaving the sentence for murder in the middle for now.

"Yes, unfortunately I'm no longer an active one," she said painfully. He didn't understand what she meant by that, nor did she explain when he did not ask her. There was an awkward silence at the table, she finished part of her dinner in the time they did not talk. Knowing he studied her, trying to observe anything about her she would not tell him.

"How much would you appreciate us turning you over to Silvermoon authorities to handle your case there?" The suggestion was meant well, her face turned pale as she gasped for air. Not exactly the response he had hoped for. It was Gazlowe that had suggested to him to inquire after that possibility. "Anything but that...!" She cried out to his surprise. After that sudden outburst she tried to take a deep breath. It left Asalt to puzzle more about the blood elf. Riselle looked afraid. "Please…put me back in prison. Put me away in the deepest dungeon you have…let me serve whatever punishment out here… please do not hand me over to Silvermoon authorities," it was a disturbing sight to hear a blood elf woman ask for a penalty she did not need to serve. It felt as if she went against her own nature. The reserved person he took her for in the beginning was nowhere in sight. It made Asalt wonder, wasn't Silvermoon the bright beacon of home for those who called themselves blood elves? Didn't the blood elves wish their people to remain close?

"You don't wish to be returned to Silvermoon?" She shook her head. "Are you banned miss Riselle?" Was his next best notion. He heard of the banishement from Silvermoon from travelers. Some that chose to leave, some that didn't fit in anymore and were pressed to leave. Some because they wanted more, some because they needed to see the world for themselves before returning to Silvermoon. He met many since Thrall opened the Horde to the blood elves. Yet the blood elves never really earned an equal seat among the Horde.

She flushed a shameful red again, making her cheeks burn. "Not so much as banned…," was all she told him. Asalt added enemies to the list of questions he had asked her and things he was still curious about. "Eat up before your dinner really gets cold," he said to her. She seemed uneasy when she took another bite with trembling fingers.

"How long will they need?" Asalt chewed his meat and swallowed it before he licked his fingers off. "As long as it takes. You shouldn't worry, the orc is a good guardian. He will vouch for your safety. And house-arrest is the best next thing new hype over hanging out in Hazers prison," Asalt said with a wicked grin. She did not respond. "The orc didn't have anything to do with this," she said softly. "I know, "Asalt said, enjoying the juice that seemed to stirr his fingers trough the rich thick juice they spiced the meat with. He didn't want Greymur to have part in this either, but he had no choice. And with him within sight, he could keep an eye on him and the young lady in front of him. "Greymur can't help he has friends that get him into trouble occasionally," Asalt smirked. Riselle looked at him, resting her green eyes on him. He wondered if she would have had blue eyes if she were a high elf. The fel taint was visible in every elf that was called blood elf.

"Tell me miss Riselle, would you be placed under house-arrest if you would be in Silvermoon right now?" He didn't think Silvermoon held high esteem about systems like that. All she had to do was shake her head to confirm that. "What would they charge you with if they found you in a simular situation?" He wondered out loud. Riselles horrified look made him fill it in for her when he said gallows. "Interesting notion to hang people in private instead of turning it into a spectacle for the crowd," he tried to imagine what it looked like. A small crowd of spectators in a dungeon while the sentence was death by hanging. That was a lonely way of dying he presumed.

"I didn't kill the woman…," she suddenly said. Asalt remained neutral. Greymur had told him as much. The hunter went by his instincts. Asalt had different instincts to his rogue nature. "Did you ever kill a person before miss Riselle?" She nodded. He did not ask her if it was out of self defense or by orders. That he left for her to tell him if she wanted. She did not. The rather large two handed sword that was supposed to be hers didn't look easy to wield, but he was sure it was kept sharp enough like he kept his knifes.

"Since we don't know anything yet miss Riselle, you'll be glad to still take me up on that offer to be placed under house-arrest," he said."Unless you give me any reason why I should not place you under house-arrest instead." Ofcourse she was not going to give him an honest answer now. "At least do not disrespect the orc," he suggested. "I won't," she said. Her body language told him she was not lying not attempting to hide anything right now. So he went with his better judgment and hoped she was what he thought she was. Honest right now. He hoped she had nothing to do with the investigation for her own sake.

"Sometimes they hang people for less, for being a fugutive. It would really be a big fat shame if they had to hang your pretty neck from a noose," he admitted. She only nodded. Not happy with the thought of that subject.

* * *

><p>Whatever he got himself into he wasn't left with much choice to deal with it. So the grey hunter found himself sitting in Asalt's office that very morning, waiting for their third party to arrive with more details. "Have you been thinking about it?" His goblin friend asked. Ofcourse he had. He had been busy about it all night, spending most of his spare time thinking and rethinking what he did that would form a threat to their investigation. He coudn't come up with any. At least he helped Jeri out. Though loyalty to a friend didn't always pay off.<p>

Now Jeri and Jatfast were leaving him alone he could focus on whatever it was that would come his way. Not that he liked it. There had been many things he never liked while still living in Twilight Highlands. He didn't particulairly enjoy the orders given by his superior at times. Gazlowe made clear there was no difference here if he had to play it hard. It would only be for a while. "Who ware we waiting for?" He wanted to know. "Apperently Zef," Asalt sad with little enthusiasm. "Gazlowe must be busy," Greymur pointed out, Asalt nodded. "What do you make of her?" The Chief of the Bruisers eyed him. "I do not believe she killed." The grey hunter said. Asalt folded his shoulders. "We'll see about that," he said. Up until then she would be left in his care to deal with. There was a silence between them that indicated they both didn't know how to start the conversation about last night.

"It's not all bad," Asalt finally said. "I mean, look at you! You get to guard around a pretty elf lady. I bet others would have liked that job!" He grinned this all knowing smirk as he looked at Greymur. "I'm not worried about the job, I do worry about how long this will take," the orc muttered. "I didn't come up with the part you were becoming her guardian, that was Gazlowe. I'm sure he had a good reason for it," Asalt mentioned, to make sure Greymur knew he did not carry all the fault to his situation. Greymur shrugged. All he could do was sit and hope the best of it.

There was a soft knock on the door that made them both look up. In the doorway Zef stood. Zef was one of Gazlowes personal assistants, the boss held at least four to six to make things work around his office. Zef was his main man. His head assistant. A skinny goblin with a pale green tone and no muscles to his arms or legs, wearing geeky half goggles on a huge nose he invented himself. The man was a good scribe though, he had a sharp tongue and mind. And a good handwriting, even Asalt had to admit that. Zef was sent to help him organize the Bruisers when he took the position of Chief of the Bruisers. They never became friends though, the man was too much by the rules and lacked proper humor.

"Finally, do come in," Asalt invited him. Greymur was silent until Zef entered the room with a stern face, adjusting his half goggles again, he could not help but have a bad feeling when the man passed him to sit in an old chair near Asalt's desk.

"Good morning, Gazlowe sent me to handle this case, as the boss himself is very busy right now," Zef said, greeting both of them. There was an awkward sphere in the room when he came to business and produced a large bookwork of papers he laid on the desk. "Right, I have given this a whole night of thought and came up with a solution," Greymur listened to the man, thinking the goblin was indeed an office man. Zef probably never fought in his lifetime nor held a weapon. Not if he had to believe Asalt.

"Mister Greymur, it seems you have provided Ratchet with some trouble, thus leaving us to get out the protocol for situations like this," the man mentioned, tapping the bookwork. For some reason it wasn't not so much the details of the tasks that worried Greymur when Gazlowes personal assistant opened the bookwork to the first page, it was more what came afterwards that made him worry for some reason. It made him frown deeply.

Greymur not only found himself stuck as one of Asalt his Bruisers, he was also provided with a task that didn't appeal to him very much. That Asalt was his boss for now was written in a neat handwriting in detail on the second and third page, explaining the job prescription.

"You're perfectly suitable for this job," Zef started, reading over the subject. "I did some more research on you. And my sources tell me you used to cook a little when you worked in the mines. So you will get to do something you seem very suitable for," Zeds smile never met his eyes, something that bothered Greymur. Asalt didn't open his big mouth once when Gazlowes personal assistant explained this suitable task to keep the orc busy. A cunning plan, as Zef called it.

Instead of the promised outhouses, which Asalt would have gladly assigned him to, Gazlowe felt he would do injustice to the orc and signed the task of finding a job to his personal assistant. Instead he was appointed with...kitchen chores!

Kitchen chores…the cheerful tone in which Zef told him his task made the orc scratch his chin in thought, while grunting something that sounded like a curse.

"Kitchen chores? You're joking," Greymur did not look very happy. Asalt was shaking his head, nor did he. "Do I look like I made a joke out of this matter mister Greymur?" Zef looked serious. No, the hunter had to admit to himself the goblin lacked humor greatly. "I know you can cook," Zef remarked with a certain grin. "And you are a hunter, then this should not be a problem," he said, tapping his finger to the bookwork again and continuing to page ten. Apparently it didn't only contain the protocol he mentioned before, but also a thoroughly written description of anything the orc could not do or wasn't allowed.

"This can't be right," Asalt said. Zef caught Asalt's curious glare. "Oh but it is, Gazlowe asked me to take over this task himself," Zef said stern. Asalt grumbled, this wasn't what Gazlowe discussed with him when he spoke about Greymur the other night. "If you do not believe me, here it is, solid proof and signed with his own hand. Written in detail how we should handle in cases like these, exactly how we are supposed to handle things around here…with protocol," Zef said proud. "**Give me that**!" Asalt said, his voice angry. "You can read all you like Asalt, the boss gave me his full consent to make sure I would put the orc to good use. And I did! A man with Greymur's abilities should not be left to guard a young woman, he should be out hunting. What better way to combine your hunter skills by making a good meal for hungry Bruisers at the end of the day?" Zef his pointy fingernail scratched the table when he shoved the bookwork to Asalt, pointing him out to the signature that held Gazlowe's approval on the last page. The man seemed awfully content with it, as he looked very relaxed.

Asalt flipped through the pages, again and again. Trying to read as fast as he could through the bookwork of more than thirty pages. Finding there was nothing in there that held up anything they discussed besides the fact Greymur was appointed as a Bruiser in his care. The orc sighed. Not knowing what to think of this task.

"Exactly how many hungry Bruisers are we talking about?" Greymur mixed his thoughts with the conversation. "Why, all of them ofcourse orc," Zef smiled at him for that. "All of them? You can't be serious." The orc hunter seemed surprised. All of the Bruisers were a lot. Far more than a group of ten or twelve. Asalt noticed the stiffness in the orcs behavior when he eyed him. "It's very simple mister Greymur. You provide food for a group of people as a hunter. Which is your profession if I recall correct. And you and that huge she-wolf of yours get to hunt all day long! I'm sure you'll manage to make it worth your own while when you are able to use your profession to fill the hungry needs of the town you live in?" The personal assistant looked content. Greymur did not.

"Where's the girl in this? Who will guard the girl?" Asalt blurted out after reading more. There was nothing in the paperwork about miss Riselle. Zef his smile turned into a grin. "That will be taken care of. You will not need to worry about the young lady Asalt. I was thinking of appointing her to another guardian, since the orc will have his hands full he can't be tasked to watch her as well can he?" The dark shimmer in his eyes made him look creepy for a moment. Asalt bit his lower lip, remembering something.

"Greymur, please go to Less and give him these from me, tell him it's important. Go with him if he asks you to," Asalt said, fumbling with some papers on his desk as he jumped up from his chair. He handed him an envelope with a black waxed seal on it. The orc hunter looked confused for a moment. "Just do it," Asalt said, pushing him out the door when the hunter got to his feet.

The two goblins were left alone in the room. Leaving Asalt to venture his frustration to Zef.

"What are you doing? This is not what the boss discussed with me! Greymur agreed to speak up for the young lady, he was appointed her guardian." Asalt said. There was nothing in Zef his thirty page counting paperwork about that when he read through it. "I know it isn't. This was my idea. This way the orc will surely not interfere with the investigation and he will make himself useful," the wonderful way Gazlowes assistant laid out his plan, worked against Asalt his good moods. The Chief of the Bruisers wondered when Zef had made Gazlowe sign his paper. The moment he was in a meeting and signed stuff in between, or the moment the boss had his mind settled to solve other matters when he signed this.

"I don't know what you think you are doing, but I will speak to Gazlowe myself about this. He would not want an orc like Greymur put to the useless task of cooking dinner when he could use him somewhere else," Asalt pointed out. If he didn't know any better he would think Zef was trying to delay something. Zef looked almost hurt for a moment. "You think I do not handle in Ratchets best interest? You hurt my feelings Asalt. I thought I did you a favor by getting the girl out of your hair and the orc from your sight," he said semi displeased.

"Does Gazlowe know you changed his plans?" Asalt wondered. Zef gave him the benefit of the doubt by smiling. Probably not. "You know you can't do anything about this, it has been officially signed. Until another plan is written and approved we go by protocol, like always." Zef simply said. Asalt his face said why, but the word never passed his lips. "I will talk to Gazlowe about this," was all he said. "You do that Asalt, you do that," Zef gave him a neutral look with a hint of sarcasm added to it.

"Until then we go by this official Gazlowe approved plan," he uttered again. "Not if I have Gazlowe speak against it," Asalt claimed. "He's too busy. You'll have to deal with it for now," Zef grinned. Asalt was silent for a moment. "Good, now if you will have your men bring in the woman, I'll be sure to escort her to her new guardian," Zef said, as if he was exchanging coins for a gold piece. Asalt didn't like the way he talked.

"What's wrong Asalt? Worried I won't inform Gazlowe you want an appointment to discuss things on behalf of the orc…again?" It was said with a certain air Asalt didn't enjoy. "I don't need an appointment to discuss things with Gazlowe. I'm his bloody Chief of the Bruisers!" Asalt grumbled. The Chief of the Bruisers gasped at the personal assistant for a second realizing something. Zef _was _stalling time.

The personal assistant sat back for a moment, leaning in the old chair as he crossed his small legs over each other. "I'm sure you need an appointment. He's _extremely busy _you see. Otherwise he would not give me this task. If you will do me the honors and have your men bring me the young lady, I will make sure everything will be alright," he promised as if he was the boss himself.

"I don't think so," Asalt said, his lips forming a crude smirk. "I do not have to follow your protocol when details are missed. I have discussed plans with Gazlowe myself, no fact can change the promise he made me when we dealt about this. Plus you seem to forget that she is left in my custody after my men collector her from Hazers prison. I say when and where she will be released or not," There was something in the way Zef moved that made him alert. There was nothing in that fancy bookwork of the personal assistant that indicated he had to release the woman into Zefs care.

"Minor detail I overlooked," Zef admitted supportively. "Nothing that cannot be fixed," he chuckled. "You will have to get those papers resigned. Or you will go unapproved. Can't have you go against the rules," The Chief of the Bruisers sniggered rightfully. It didn't matter to Zef. "I'll be back to collect the woman and sign her release papers this afternoon, with official signed papers that will prove Gazlowe supports my change of plans. You keep her ready for escort Asalt," Zef said.

"I think you are leaving now," Asalt declared to Zef, wanting the stern looking personal assistant out of his office and his sight for now. The woman was an important piece of the investigation he was tasked with, and there was no way he would sent her with Zef right now. "You can make this hard on yourself Asalt, but be reasonable, an elf like miss Riselle should not be put in the care of a savage orc like Greymur. She should be handled with a little more…delicate care," Zef said, getting up from the chair. Asalt disagreed, knowing the orc did a good job guarding what he was asked to guard.

"You go…**now**," Asalt said. With that Zef took his leave and left Asalt to think about what just happened here. With Zef moving around things he could do the same. If he managed to have her released into Greymur's care before the afternoon, Zef could bring in paperwork all he wanted, with Greymur's signature on her release papers Zef had nothing against him. Gazlowe made him a promise. It was like playing a game of chess or a game of cards perhaps. All you had to do was play by the underlying rules if you wanted to win.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Homemade house-arrest system.**

Greymur had been down at the reception far longer than he expected. But the way Less had fiddled with the envelope and the black wax seal made him wonder what it was for. The man never broke the seal. Instead Less had muttered something about going out, leaving Greymur in charge of the reception. As nothing happened during Less his absence Greymur took a good look at his wolf. Rena chewed on a mouthful of treats. A sigh escaped from him when he looked at her satisfying wolf eyes. "Snack diva," was all he said to her. She ignored her hunter, instead she enjoyed the mouthful of treats Less managed to have her eat at once.

As the morning was almost over and the afternoon was slowly settling, Greymur saw many Bruisers come in for their afternoon break. Somewhere in between he saw Zef leave in a hurry. Which made him ponder, as the man never fully explained that new task that was supposed to keep him busy. The smaller goblin was gone before he managed to make it to the door and ask him about it.

A wet snout pushed against his grey hand, he looked down at Rena for that. She was done chewing. Greymur raised a brow to her as she ticked the inside of his hand again with that wet snout. Her eyes seemed to hint to one of the drawers of a desk in the corner as she tilted her red brown furred head to it. "No," he said. She was whining softly. The grey orc stared down at her in a harsh way.

"Who do you think I am? You're servant? You lazy snack diva! Go hunt it off it you want something you like. All this bloody goblin food isn't good for you," he scolded her. She seemed to sigh as she laid herself down on the ground, resting her head on her front paws, eyeing Greymur moving around the space that was called the reception.

It took ages before Less finally came back. The man seemed to have all the time in the world to his annoyance. Before he released Greymur from his temporary task at the reception he walked towards the office where Asalt was still waiting for an answer. When he returned he told him Asalt wanted to see him in his office again. Greymur grumbled, what was this, sending him from one direction to another. He wondered how much Asalt enjoyed himself right now.

There was no sign of anything unusual when he entered. The Chief of the Bruisers was reading a letter, the envelope held a broken seal of black wax. It seemed good new as Asalt searched in one of his pouches for one of those horrible gums with flavors to chew on. "Where is Zef?" Greymur wanted to know. "He left," Asalt said, not hiding his relief. That Greymur had seen. "Now I still don't know what Gazlowe wants me to do if not somebody's bleeding kitchen chores," he mentioned. Asalt laid is letter aside. "You won't miss anything useful coming out of that man. Turns out he changed Gazlowes plans. He wasn't supposed to I'm sure, since Gazlowe made me a bloody promise about having you work for me for the time being. And to think I considered him an acquaintance. I do no longer after this morning," Asalt decided. Though Greymur didn't quite understand what Asalt was on about he didn't dare ask for more details. Asking didn't exactly help him stay out of trouble in the first place.

"I know Gazlowe had other plans for you then whatever Zef came up with," the rogue said in a tone that made it sound like he won something amusing. He leaned back against a wall with his chair, chewing on his gum. Greymur shrugged. "What am I waiting for then? Explain the bloody task en let it be done," his voice was unamused. Greymur wondered if that personal assistant of Gazlowe even had the faintest idea of the effort it took to organize a hunt. Hunting meant planning your moves. First you had to figure out what prey you were hunting. Random hunting for a group as large as all the Bruisers together did not make it easy. Not if he was also the one who had to prepare the food. He had been thinking about it while standing at the reception for a while. There was no way he could hunt and cook it on his own for so many mouths.

Then his thoughts had lingered to Riselle. Whatever did they make him her guardian for? He still didn't see the trouble in getting a warning. This whole involvement thing laid heavy on him. Making it feel like the moment he was appointed guard in Twilight Highlands by his superior because he lacked the 'enthusiasm' to torment more dwarfs to their deaths. If you can't do what you're told, you earn no respect, the man had told him in an angered way. He was left to guard the village, or Torth. Stupid jobs for stupid orcs his captain said, it would stop the moment he would turn to his senses again and earned some respect back.

Greymur always did wonder if he had done the right thing by refused the honors of assisting the torturer while he slowly killed off those dwarfs for information.

This wasn't quite the same, still Gazlowe had spoken to him as one of the inhabitants of Ratchet. Reminding him of the rules that came with living in Ratchet. He chose to live her, then he also chose to stick to those rules. And if the big boss wanted something from you he would tell you, like he did to Greymur. It didn't matter, he would have been rounded up at some point to hear the same he heard when Riselle was present.

"You're not doing kitchen chores. It's all been taking care of," Asalt promised him with that telltale smirk of his. "But I would have liked to see you run wild with rage on your own in that small kitchen to feed all those hungry Bruisers," the man chuckled. Greymur gave him a warning glare not to push his lame humor. Asalt got the hint. "While we're here, I need you to sign some forms before I will release the young lady to your care," he said. Greymur gave him a curious look, wondered if everything was so unorganized. He thought she would be released in the afternoon, not halfway in the morning . It didn't matter he guessed.

"Exactly what am I supposed to do with her after she is released in my care?" Was his question. "You figure that out for yourself, you are her guardian the moment you sign those papers, your signature vouches for her safety and gives you responsibility." The goblin grinned suggestively at him. "After that we'll think of something suitable for you to do around here," he decided. "As your boss I get to appoint you to a proper task, better than any kitchen chores," he heard him say, adding that sleazy smirk to it.

"As a matter of fact Greymur, you can start right now! Please tell the boys to bring her up for me." The order given to Greymur gave him a strange feeling when Asalt chuckled loudly, amused by it apparently. Asalt seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly according to Greymur's increasing bad mood. The orc hunter muttered something about abusing friendship and enjoying the power too much before he walked out of the door-less office.

He moved down the hallway, passed the part where the Bruisers in headquarter duty remained. The hallway split into a second hallway, left you could enter into the reception area again and turning to the right you would go around the corner. Near the corridor there was a door with access to a temporary cell block. He knocked it. The Bruiser opening the door looked humorless when he saw the orc. "If you want directions you shouldn't knock on this door," he said and wanted to close it again. Greymur grunted. "Asalt sent me," he answered. "New recruit?" The look on the man's face changed from humorless to slight interest when he looked at Greymur again. "Old recruit,"to get it out of the way. "And I came for the woman," he said.

"You hear that Spade? There's a new orc recruit that claims to be an old recruit sent here by Asalt." The sarcastic way in which he was addressed really did not help him get a better mood. The nasty tone mostly reminded him of times in Twillight Highlands where his superiors thought it was funny to set an example for those who were degraded back to guard status when they failed their clan. Any previously earned respect you had in the clan was gone the moment the Warlord decided you did something you shouldn't have. You started all over again, which was funny for the ones close to the Warlord. It taught them discipline he was told. Greymur was one of those. In the end he was used to being told off by somebody after he went down the way he had in his old village.

This wasn't the same situation. Here he didn't need to bother with his superiors. Scaring off old ghost from his past he straightened his back, realising the goblin was yabbering something about the woman. "Hey orc! I'm talking to you orc, what if I don't give her to you?" The smirk was asking for a fist in his face. Or two fingers up his nose to pull him from behind that door he seemed to share with another goblin.

Instead Greymur ignored the man that seemed to find himself so very amusing. He never saw the one behind the door. "Asalt says the lady can be sent up," Greymur grumbled again. "A lady, Spade, do we have a lady down here?" The goblin face dissapeared behind the door again, consulting with the other. When he returned his beady eyes shone with irony when he eyed Greymur again. "Lady? What lady! I don't have no lady here orc" The goblin looked as if he didn't know what the hunter meant. The smirk spreading across the man's face didn't help, giving a strange shade to the faint fluff of hair he wore on his upper lip. It might as well been a dirty wipe when Greymur looked closer. It didn't suit the goblin, none of them looked good with mustaches, they simply didn't have the face for it he decided.

"The elf lady," he muttered in a low grunt when he saw what the goblin was trying to pull off. "Spade you know anything about any elf lady in our cell block?" There was a chuckle coming from behind the door, followed by a no. Greymur was not in the mood for this game. "We don't know what you are talking about orc, there's no elf lady here, go tell Asalt he should give you better orders instead of sending you here for nothing," he got for an answer. The hunter wanted to wipe the grin of the man's face when he saw those gleaming eyes.

The low grummble coming from his throat sounded like the roar of an angered beast. "I would advise to stop toying around and bring in the bleeding lady when you're asked. You can do that right? Follow a simple order given to you by the boss?" The way he addressed the man in equal sarcasm was inspired by his old captain in Twilight Highlands. The orc had been rough and unpleasant, his character designed to filter out failures and to be superior to those who lacked the nature ways of giving orders, as he always called it. Greymur had been a simpleton in his eyes, like many with him who fell down from grace.

These goblins treated him the same in their attempt to pull off the lame joke that would make him walk back and forward from and towards Asalt. He refused to participate in this senseless way of having fun with new recruits. In other circumstances he would have gladly obliged, if only to give them a little bit of fun before pulling off something grand himself that would get back at them. But right now he simply wasn't in the mood.

Remembering how they used to do the same with new recruits in Twilight Highlands. It made little difference. Except for the fact he wasn't some new recruit, he was here because circumstances were not ideal. And he wasn't going to have them sent him back and forth throughout the headquarters. "Don't you talk to me like that…_new recruit!_" The look on the man's face changed.

"I'm not in the mood for this," he stated. There was laughter. "You hear that Spade? The new recruit isn't up for it!" The man seemed to think he was funny. Greymur rolled his eyes, sucking in his breath for a moment. **"Just bring up the damned woman,**" he told him. "Hey Spade, the new one is giving orders already! Sounds like somebody needs a lesson around here," there was more laughter coming from behind the door.

The fist stumping the clay wall next to the goblins face left a hole in the horrible pine-apple wallpaper that came loose when he pulled his hand back. The hunter shook his hand to get rid of the pain. The skin on his knuckles was broken by the blow to the wall, scratches that bled lightly when he looked at his hand. The grin on the goblin's face froze. "Snat? What's happening out there?" Spades voice sounded worried for a moment. "Bring the woman up Spade….," was all Snat said when he stared at Greymur. He looked at the wall and then at the man. The goblins look told him he need not wait around for the woman to be brought to Asalt's office.

* * *

><p>When they finally brought in Riselle she looked at the floor as she passed him. Brought by the same Bruisers who eyed him in silence. Greymur stood straight when they passed him. He worried when he saw her like that. She was still barefoot, even though she was wearing the same knee-high black trousers and white shirt she had been given days ago. From the looks of it she was not given an opportunity to freshen up. Around her wrists and ankles she wore thick cuffs, shackled together in the middle by four chains held together by a large lock. One of the Bruisers gave him a disapproving look. "Procedure orc, we transport all prisoners of the cell block to the boss this way, so you know that," he said. The other produced a wide grin, making him guess that was the one called Spade. Greymur could not argue about it. Nor did he want to, not after his outburst. They disappeared from Asalt's office after leaving the elf woman in care of Asalt.<p>

"Take a seat miss Riselle," Asalt pointed at the chair Zef had used earlier that morning.

She sat down as she seemed to examine the office she was in. Greymur snorted impatiently, hoping they would be done soon enough.

"Maybe you can sign the papers, without making holes in them?" Asalt asked in a normal tone, ofcourse he knew about that. His Bruisers probably complained about him and the hole he made in the wall earlier. Greymur grunted something that sounded like a yes. He read the papers through, word for word. With goblins you always had to look for loopholes. Asalt sniggered. Reading wasn't always common for some. He was taught to read and write when he was a little older. By an orc girl that shared his shifts very often while they were on the night watch, she liked him. He didn't like her back unfortunately. Not like that. She was nice though, he simply didn't see her for more than an equal. "You actually read it? Clever, most sign without reading it," he said. While Greymur finally signed the release forms he hoped this was it and he would have some time to arrange things he needed to check out.

Handing him back the papers in silence Greymur sat down. Asalt seemed pleased to reread the signature he used. The fact he could write did not make him a good writer. His handwriting was crude, made with lines where his fingers pressed to hard on the sensitive pencil. That he didn't break it was a miracle really. Yet nothing happened. He wasn't excused after signing the papers, nor was Riselle released.

Asalt was waiting for something. Tapping his foot impatiently. Spitting out his gum and exchanging it for a new one.

Now the afternoon had set the day you could hear from the noisy amount of people in the headquarters that a lot of Bruisers were on their break. It appeared they used the headquarters for that as well. He could hear the amount of times the door squeaked when it was opened and closed as the crowd of voices increased. He heard Rena bark at everybody that came in, Less probably giving her a treat for every warning she gave. There was laughter as well. Relaxed chatting and somebody telling a lame joke that half found its way towards Asalt his door-less office. Greymur silently listened to every noise and watched Asalt closely. "We're almost complete," Asalt announced when Greymur looked at him for explanation. He pondered who they were waiting for now? If it were up to Greymur he would have settled matters early this morning and sent those involved to do their task. Instead he heard some of the people in the front room applaud and Rena bark again. If his snack diva would have too many snacks than he would make her run it off the next couple of hunts. Because that idiotic plan would give him a day filling job he realized.

"Hey watch where you're going crazy guy!" Somebody complained in a rather loud voice near the reception in the front room. Asalt smirked when he heard the complaints increase. "Greymur, please check it out," he ordered the hunter. Riselle looked at him for a moment before he got up with a heavy sigh again. Was Asalt really going to make him get up for every stupid thing he could think of?

"Excuse me, yes, sorry, sorry, very sorry I can't see very much with these backpacks," a small goblin loaded with two huge backpacks and a giant toolbox tried to break away from the crowds that was blocking his path in the front room. He was laughed at when somebody made a funny gesture at him. Greymur grumbled when he noticed the packed goblin trying to make his way through. The small man eventually got a big push and came stumbling into the hallway where Greymur stood waiting, losing his balance.

The - Ouch- that Greymur heard after the man hit the wall before rolling onto his back like a turtle, was slightly amusing. The struggling man tried to free himself from his huge backpack, his legs pointing up in mid air.  
>"Help ... someone ... please," the goblin squeaked when he did not succeed. The orc grinned at the man before he decided it would be too cruel to leave him like that for a while. Who-ever tried to travel with at least six times his own weight in luggage?<p>

"Idiot," he said with a grin and wanted to give the man a hand to get up. "Oh..hello ... Greymur," Greymur's hand remained frozen in mid air, his face steel when he looked at Zanak. "Are you still going to help me up Greymur? Please?" The man asked, lying in his uncomfortable position. The orc nodded, confused. What was Zanak doing here?

"Thank you, thank you ever so much, well if I'd known you were here, I would have asked you to help me carry all this stuff," he chuckled. At least he didn't look like he walked into a fire like last time. His goggles were still shattered but he replaces part of the glass in the other. And he cleaned himself up after the explosion. That the man still had hair was a surprise to Greymur.

"Zanak? Finally! We were waiting for you," Asalt's head appeared around the corner, noticing Zanak. "Hello Asalt, I am here, it took some effort, but I'm here. I came as soon as Less gave me that envelope. I had to look for my stuff before I could get here. Never knew there was so much hurry or I would have packed everything up front," he said and pulled the backpacks with him toward the office. They made a scraping sound over the floorboards. Greymur raised his brow, his face a question that made Asalt smirk secretly.  
>"We're almost done, I just need Zanak to program and install the house arrest system to Riselle," Asalt said and disappeared before Greymur could say something. Leaving him behind in even more confusion.<p>

Did he seriously hear Asalt say they were going to have Zanak install that whole house arrest system...Greymur couldn't laugh about the situation, not anymore.

* * *

><p>"Hurias?" One of the foreman of team 3 walked along a long corridor, looking for the elf. "Where is that boy?" The man grumbled and walked on. Hurias wiped his brow with a piece of linen cloth that was completely black by now. With his pickaxe put beside him he took a moment to take a few quick swigs from his water skin before continuing his work. "HURIAAAS?" The elf heard his name echo through the corridor. The foreman did not sound happy.<p>

"Over here!" He waved as he stood up. The man looked harsh when he saw the elf. "I was afraid I lost you somewhere in this maze of mines ... although I would rather have reported that to be honest," he said with a sigh. Hurias watched his foreman, not quite sure what he meant. "Overseer Hornkicker wants to see you. Report to him outside," he explained. Hurias shrugged, if that was the case he would. He picked up his shirt, his pickaxe and his water skin and walked towards the exit of the mine.

Overseer Marti Hornkicker was possibly even larger than one of the tauren foreman of team 3. He wore his horns with pride and was stern sometimes. The tauren did not look really happy when he saw the elf approaching.  
>"I had to report?" The blond-haired elf asked and looked questioningly at Marti Hornkicker. Overseer Hornkicker nodded, unfolded a piece of paper as he looked Hurias over. He cleared his throat before speaking.<br>"It appears," he said with his deep booming voice," that apparently there have been a complaint about you to Gazlowe." The tauren looked at the elf. Hurias raised one of his fine long eyebrows as he thought about it. Overseer Hornkicker scratched his braided beard for a moment.  
>"It is said the complainer wanted you fired from your duties here," he read out loud. Hurias frowned as he looked puzzled for a moment. Who would submit a complaint about him?<br>"Does the name...Wiley mean anything to you?" Overseer Hornkicker asked when he took another look at the paper to have the name correct. Hurias bit his lip and nodded slowly. Yes unfortunately it did.

"Is it that the guy from the Broken Keel Tavern?" Overseer Hornkicker inquired, Hurias nodded again. The tauren looked at him, not understanding. "Boy what have you been up to? I've never had complaints about you once. Not even when you just started your service with us and didn't produce as much as the others. You must have done some serious thing to this Wiley person for Gazlowe to decide he wants to fire you on the spot!" Marti Hornkicker said with a doubtful glare at the elf. "I honestly do not know what I did wrong," Hurias shrugged. "Apparently he has been complaining a lot about you and a group that would have caused him a great deal of dismay and loss of income over the past week." Overseer Hornkicker shook his head.  
>"Gazlowe wants you back in Ratchet immediately. Which means...that I will have to fire you,.. I'm sorry boy," Hornkicker was not happy with this assignment. Hurias understood that he only did it because he did not have much choice. With a sigh he handed in his pickaxe. Wiley's threat had not been a threat, he truly did what he had promised.<p>

Hurias was allowed to refill his water skin and then he could start walking the long road back to Ratchet, in the full heat of the day.

* * *

><p>Worried why Greymur could not see the humor of this Asalt told him to accepted it as a temporary setback. He tried to explain what Zanak had been inventing for him, but the hunter would not hear it. Instead the orc looked quite menacing. Greymur muttered a curse under his breath when he looked at Zanak in a threatening way. "It's nothing serious Greymur, it won't explode," he said in a wry tone. Asalt cut in before Greymur could move towards Zanak.<p>

"You keep your head down or I'll still remove you," he said to Greymur, warning him. Greymur sat himself at the back of the office and held his mouth shut, keeping a sharp eye out for anything Zanak would produce. Wondering why they even considered Zanak for this project, pondering if this system of his had anything to do with last week's explosion.

"Zanak my man, work your magic," Asalt said to him, making himself comfortable in his chair as he leaned on two legs. Zanak nodded and looked at the blood elf. "Miss Riselle was it?" Zanak asked politely and bowed to the blood elf. She nodded shyly at him, certainly not knowing what to think of the situation. "Asalt, can someone please remove her chains, otherwise I cannot fit the metal band," Zanak said. Asalt came up from his chair, rattling his keys, before opening all the individual locks on the shackles. He left the giant lock untouched. Riselle following every step of his movement.  
>With a loud rattling sound the chains fell to the floor of his office, nearly landing on her bare feet if she had not moved quickly. Asalt grinned stupidly before he apologized.<p>

She rubbed her sore wrists and looked at the red stripes from the shackles around her ankles. That did not look very good.  
>"May I?" Zanak inquired and pushed Asalt aside in a rather harsh way. He sat himself on his knees in front of Riselle. From the enormous toolbox he took a rather charred looking tool belt and a second pair of semi repaired goggles. These held a pink and a green glass. Making the blue and the green glass from the first pair of goggles he was wearing look better then what he held in his hand. It looked a little crazy. The pink glass on the second pair of goggles had a huge crack in it as well. The green glass of the other side was completely pulverized.<br>"Safety procedure," he chuckled again as he put them on over his first pair of goggles. She wondered if he could see anything through these goggles. Asalt sat in his chair again. Riselle had no idea what was coming. The smaller goblin muttered to himself, rose quickly and then plunged upside down into one of the big backpacks he had dragged into the office.  
>"Aha!" They heard him say, while his head was still hidden inside the backpack," found it," he reported, and reappeared. In his hand he held a metal band. Zanak went back on his knees and adjusted the metal strap around her ankle. He shook his head.<p>

"As I thought, too big," he grumbled, and got up again, diving back into the backpack and ultimately fishing up a smaller size.  
>"I think that will fit," he said, grabbing her hand and trying the metal strap around it. "What is this?" Riselle asked curiously. "This metal band or strap if you like, depending on who wears it ofcourse, contains a transmitter miss Riselle. The transmitter communicates with an alarm-o-bot," Zanak explained. Not that the alarm-o-bot was something Riselle knew anything about. Zanak scratched his head, thinking of the best way to explain his invention. "It is actually an alarm system I was asked to invent," he said to her with a little smile. "Did you know that you are the first person who will wear this amazing system? You will be able to walk around freely in Ratchet? So that kind of makes you a little bit my guinea pig," he said shyly when she did not answer him. Instead he went and grabbed a screw from a pouch on his tool belt to fasten the metal band with.<p>

"Well ... uhm ... great?" Riselle let herself slip with little enthusiasm. Zanak smiled at her and rummaged further in the other backpack.  
>"It is advisable to be careful with water," he said, as he imitated a person who received an electric shock. Very reassuring.<p>

"I made a small adjustment to the house arrest system," he said, started muttering to himself again when he could not find in the other backpack what he was looking for. There were all kinds of things coming out of the backpack: a big pile of unrolled bandages, two rolls of tape and at least twenty different types of loose screws. He also produced a set of bizarre looking tools as he laid them all out on Asalt his desk. The Chief of the Bruisers did not look very happy with all the clutter. Especially not when Zanak added a bottle of oil, a major role of wick for explosives and a stick of dynamite to the pile. Zanak grinned nervously when he saw Asalt look at all the junk and quickly went on with the debris from the bag.  
>A broken crossbow, a wrench and a half tin can of some sort landed on the ground. Eventually he found what he was looking for after a long search.<p>

"Tadaa, the modified version of the alarm-o-bot," Zanak proudly presented a small metal children's like toy with a big red flash light on its head.

"That's gnomish engineering! I thought you specialized in goblin engineering?"Asalt said. With one eye watching all the crap on his desk. Zanak nodded again and gave him a grin."I have been doing research on gnomish engineering. So I took the blueprints from the original system, but when I built it I left the sensors the same, I only modified it slightly for the house arrest system. It was actually very simple," he said laconically, turned the robot around.  
>"An ordinary alarm-o-bot uses a program that allows the operator to program it to a limited amount of tasks. Mostly because the alarm-o-bots function was purely for seeking out intruders. I simply replaced the chip for a larger one, a stronger fused wiring and rewired the whole program to work with my replacement program for greater range," he said and opened a small hatch at the back of the robot. There was a tangle of wires falling out that seemed stuck together, Zanak quickly pushed it back in and closed the small hatch as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.<br>"Right, mind you as a goblin I'm still trying to understand some of these strange blueprints the gnomes make," he said and turned his attention back to the alarm-o-bot. Everyone looked at the weird looking toy on Asalt his desk.

"Cute huh! The person with house arrest won't be alone, he or she has this small lovely metal companion with him at all times that watches and monitors every step the person with the transmitter takes, " Zanak said. "What about obstacles?" Asalt wanted to know. "Well," Zanak said, looking a little timidly at that question as he grinned sheepishly. "The wearer of the transmitter could always loose the alarm-o-bot when its stuck behind an obstacle ofcourse, but it will always automatically follow the wearer of the transmitter once its free again," he said cautiously. Asalt frowned. "But," he continued enthusiastically:"The alarm-o-bot will be able to monitor the movement of the transmitter its connected to even when the wearer is on the other side of Ratchet, if I programmed it correctly it immediately gives off an alarm when the wearer goes beyond the boundaries of Ratchet," Asalt was still frowning.

"So it's actually not finished yet?" Asalt asked."Yes, well..erhm...no..., yes, well the alarm-o-bot still seems to have trouble with obstacles, and sometimes the old system plays up again. Gnomish engineering doesn't let itself get programmed easily you know" Zanak said, sounding a bit ashamed he had to admit that.  
>"But miss Riselle will have complete freedom in Ratchet thanks to my modification!" The man almost gleamed with pride. "You could think of that metal band but as a fashionable metal bracelet, Miss Riselle, I think young ladies like you will love jewelry like that?" He grinned. Riselle raised an eyebrow and looked at the metal strap. She did not quite know how to tell him she did not.<p>

"Does it do anything else?" Greymur asked in a dark tone, he had been quiet all this time, listening and watching the whole process. His voice was dark. Zanak looked curious at him. "What do you mean?" He asked, looking stupid. Greymur grunted in anger. "Does it boil anything? Can it produce snacks? Is it a grill?" Greymur asked sarcastically. Zanak looked at him as if he heard an upcoming thunderstorm on a clear day.

"Ofcourse not! Why do you ask?" Zanak said with a certain sigh. Now Asalt was interested as well. "Because," they heard Greymur's dark voice say. "Your inventions seem to be a bit...explosive, from what I have seen so far. And who can assure me that this will not explode as well?" He pointed at the metal band around Riselles wrist and the alarm-o-bot. Zanak sucked in his lips when he looked at the orc.  
>"Well, I do not know about that yet Greymur. The original alarm-o-bot is not designed by me, so I do not know if it can explode or not," he admitted.<p>

Greymur growled. "Are you out of your mind Asalt? You cannot be serious having this ..this two timed inventor install anything proper can you?" Greymur growled at his boss' straight face. "Gazlowe asked him to build it Greymur, I had little to do with it." The chief of the Bruisers announced. Greymur could not believe his ears. "Gazlowe seriously asked Zanak for this job? To invent a whatever-it-is-o-bot-alarm-system thing?" Greymur's voice hung towards anger. Zanak looked puzzled.

"The explosion you caused last week. Was that when you were testing this thing?" The orc wanted to know, still remembering how the façade of Zanak's workshop was damaged and smoke came out of all the cracked windows.  
>"Oh ... <em>That explosion<em>! No, that was because I tried to cook my fish stew with dynamite, but the invention I was making had nothing to do with that explosion," Zanak noted when he understood what Greymur went on about. "I am convinced that mister Zanak here is a very good engineer," Riselles voice sounded odd in the middle of the men's discussion suddenly. It was quiet in the room as she spoke. Zanak looked at her, almost in love when she uttered her trust in him.

Greymur swore loudly. "**I do not**," he claimed. "**Ratchet has at least twenty or more capable engineers and you seriously let Zanak customized a system from which we do not even know if it works? That man is dangerous**! "Greymur blurted out. Zanak gave him a disapproving look.

"I happen to be a very skilled engineer Greymur Daggerscar! And I will tell you that the gnomish alarm-o-bot has been my specialty when I still worked in the mines, everyone in Ratchet knows that!" The small goblin defended himself, making a wide gesture with the pliers still in his hand.  
>"<strong>I do not care<strong>!" Greymur roared, "**You do not go around attaching an alarm whatever system to Riselle and make her your freaking test subject**!" He called out loudly.

"Guys, guys, easy!" Asalt tried to shush the upcoming problem."Greymur you keep quiet! Gazlowe knows very well whom he asks for a job like this. Zanak is a very capable engineer in his profession. Maybe his dream of culinary and engineering combination might not be a success and caused some uproar, but he's good in his job. As long as we still have this problem and the incident in the tavern is not solved, miss Riselle is under house arrest and you will obey my decisions as your boss!" Asalt threatened. Greymur let out a low grunt.

Asalt wanted to bring that as a final statement to the discussion, wanting to bang his fist loudly into his desk. But he missed and it caused all of Zanak's debris flying into every direction of his office. The Chief of the Bruisers hissed for Zanak to clean up his clutter. The goblin instantly did as he was searching the ground for all of his stuff.

"**Damned Greymur**! Gazlowe tried to make the best choice here was for this situation. This way we try to avoid miss Riselle spending consecutive weeks in that dark damp cell Hazer calls prison, so if you do not like it take your complaints to Gazlowe! Give the lady the luxury of being able to walk about insetad of being locked away!" Now he slammed his fist into his desk. But the loud bang did not have quite the impact he wanted.  
>"I am very grateful to everybody," Riselle suddenly said, her voice sounded strong. Asalt took a deep breath. The elf looked Greymur in the face. He calmed under her gaze."Can we go now?" The orc grunted. Asalt nodded. Zanak stopped him.<p>

"Please, press this," Zanak held a glowing piece of metal in front of Greymur. It was enchanted from the looks of it, pressing it to Greymur's fingertip. The orc tried to shake the hand of the goblin off but he already managed to imprint it on the piece of metal. It started glowing. "Thank you, this will activate the transmitter and will recognize your fingerprint as the one –besides me- who will be able to reset the alarm-o-bot if needed," Zanak told him. "Please activate the alarm-o-bot by pressing the shiny metal, it will automatically start transmitting and miss Riselle will be settled," Zanak lectures him, waving the imprinted fingerprint on the enchanted piece of metal in front of his nose. Greymur hesitated. "Do it!" Asalt told him. "This fingerprint system, what happens if somebody but Greymur would take the band off?" Asalt asked out of curiosity.

"Ratchet has boundary stones, they are all linked with the safety procedure system that activates the alarm when something happens and instant help is needed. If somebody would take miss Riselle across the boundaries without having the metal imprint and ability to de-activate the alarm-o-bot, there will be an alert in the headquarters. Stating that miss Riselle is either a fugitive trying to escape or accidentally crossing the boundaries that mark Ratchet. Only I or Gazlowe will know how to deactivate the system, so nobody can take it off. The transmitter will respond to the piece of metal with the fingerprint, but that is only to allow the system to be reset in case of emergency," Zanak whipped his brow after sharing that knowledge.

"Why would I need to reset it?" Greymur grumbled. "Because I could not completely erase the original system the alarm-o-bot to . Sometimes it goes off and sounds an alarm that you cannot silence unless you reset it," he grinned sheepishly at Greymur. The orc fancied making a pile of scraps from the alarm-o-bot if it would ever do that.

"Anybody not inclined to have aces to the system will have no use of it. It also leaves miss Riselle unable to leave Ratchet without special permission of Gazlowe himself," Zanak nodded, Asalt his smirk was a bit out of order when the small goblin told him that. "I will provide Greymur with the metal card when I'm back home, he lives nearby so it should not be a problem. Ofcourse I will volunteer to help reset the alarm-o-bot if it would run wild," Zanak said. Greymur sighed. "Are we done here?" He asked again. Asalt nodded. That was all he needed.

With a grunt he pulled Riselle up to her feet and pulled her after him out of the office. "**Wait**!" Zanak cried out. "Don't you want to hear the rest? You need to know how this works Greymur!" Zanak called after him, but Greymur was already gone from the office.

"He forgot his alarm-o-bot!" Zanak said, picking up the small robot under his arm and running after them.

* * *

><p>Greymur had to whistle Rena twice before she finally left Less his side. He had no patience to say anything nice to his snack diva and walked with a brisk pace towards the exit, having enough of the headquarters so far. Riselle followed him silently out the door. Outside the large she-wolf barked at the new face she saw. Riselle smiled at her when she gave a warning bark. She allowed Rena to sniff her hand, remaining calm when the wolf eyed her with a suspicious look.<p>

"Greymur…good, I caught you," the wheezing of the small goblin when he stood halfway The Dark Alley made Greymur grumble once more. "You forgot the alarm-o-bot," he said, handing it to Riselle. She took it with a curious look.

Rena barked louder at it. Zanak chuckled, getting his breath back. "Awww..come on Rena, it doesn't hurt you. All it does is protect miss Riselle over here. Like you do with Greymur!" Zanak cooed at her. Greymur frowned at the goblin. Zanak smiled as he looked at the two of them. "Rena loves snacks you know," Zanak said as he cuddled the giant she-wolf between the ears. She was far larger than he was. She barked loudly as Riselle laughed. A bright and cheerful smile. "I have no snacks Rena, but it is nice to meet you," she told Rena. The she-wolf let her head hang.  
>"I do not know if you wish to know my name Rena, but I am Riselle," Greymur heard the elf talk to his wolf. He looked sideways to see how Riselle took one of Rena's large paws, introducing herself. Rena snorted as she picked up Riselles scent.<br>"The alarm-o-bot is obviously not like Rena, but it could resembles a pet I guess," Zanak said. Greymur turning around to face the small goblin that had followed them. "Why are you still here?" he heard himself say to the goblin. "You forgot the alarm the alarm-o-bot," Zanak said for an excuse.

"It would defeat the use of my house alert system when the alarm-o-bot if not present while the wearer or the transmitter walks around. Ofcourse it works when the wearer is on the other side of town, but it weakens the transmittion. Causing it to give off a false alert easier without having to, which usually ends in that alert I mentioned earlier," he explained. The hunter sighed, wanting him out of his sight.

"I can put it down now?" Riselle asked Zanak. The goblin nodded. "Yes, the only problem is that you will probably lose it sometimes, then he's most likely stuck behind an obstacle. I am still working on a better version," he reassured her. She looked doubtful, putting the little toy-like thing down. When it began to move Rena barked at it. "I hope that I am not going to be your test subject again, for the new one," she said softly.  
>The mechanical sound of the alarm-o-bot followed her, it irritating Greymur enormously. "You are in luck miss Riselle, because I live a few doors down from Greymur. If there is any problem with the system don't hesitate to pay me a visit," he mentioned again, taking off his goggles, showing a smile and bright shining eyes as he looked at the elf. Al she did was nod. At least he didn't mention his cooking Greymur thought.<p>

He stood there for a while, hesitating what to say next. Nothing came to mind. It irritated Greymur. "Do you mind Zanak? We still have things to do," Greymur suddenly bellowed at Zanak when the small goblin did not seem to go away after explained himself. He understood the hint and looked at Greymur with a compassionate face.  
>"I hope they solve things quickly on your behalf, miss Riselle, it was a pleasure meeting you," he said honestly as she said his goodbye. "Me too," she said, when he walked away.<p>

Well, there they were; Greymur, Rena, Riselle and the alarm-o-bot ... not knowing what the best next step would be.

"I'm so sorry," Riselle suddenly said and broke through the tedious persistent silence Greymur had created. He shook his head. "It does not matter," he said, his tone still a bit angered. "Come, I'll take you to the tavern," he said firmly. Riselle just nodded. He assumed that the tavern would be open again. He had a lot of thinking to do, even more planning to do. How could he be responsible for an elf? Whatever made Gazlowe think that was a good plan. What were his responsibilities as her guardian? He would have known would he bothered to listened to Asalts last rant, but he could not be bothered right now.

Together with the blood elf he silently walked towards the tavern. Thanking silently for it to be open again. Wiley was not happy to see the pair.

"**You again! You dare show your face here? No more mister! You caused me enough trouble for a long time. Not you, not your crazy rogue friends or your elf boy and most of all the miss over here are welcome any longer**!" Wiley shouted at them and pointed to Riselle while an exaggerated gesture. He swiped the floor of his tavern with his broom in a wild way. Riselle looked ashamed again, shooting Greymur off into his wrong mood.  
>"The young lady could not help it!" he defended Riselle. "Then the young lady should have figured she should not have caused trouble! I heard you left a corpse on my bathroom floor! "The innkeeper shook his head as he tried to rid himself of the image. Pointing a finger at her. "I did not...," she said quietly. "<strong>Now I have to disinfect EVERYTHING ... and I have two rooms that I cannot rent out because they still need examples and research done to them! Do you have any idea what this incident cost me so far<strong>?"He held up the stick of his broom shaking it in a threatening way at Greymur and Riselle.

"But...where will she have to stay?" The orc already saw what was coming. "**I do not care! She's not staying in this inn anymore! Just go and see the person they have appointed as her guardian! Now scram**! " The innkeeper turned his back on them and loudly swiped his floor while cursing. Guardian…, that was him.

He hit himself on his forehead, slapping his hand against it again and again. "But ...," Greymur seriously wanted to ram a hole in the wall with the pile of problems that kept coming his way.  
>"<strong>NO<strong>!" Wiley screamed. "**Either you scram or I will call the Bruisers to remove you Greymur! I too have my limits! Come again in a year, maybe I will let you off by then when I'm in a better mood, for now you're not welcome**! " The angry innkeeper said to him. Greymur looked at Wiley's back. "I am one of those damned cursed Bruisers," he hissed, completely pissed off.

"Do you at least have the belongings of this young lady?" The orc hunter tried to draw some more social attitude by asking that in a normal tone. "**You can take everything! EVERYTHING**! "Wiley grumbled and disappeared behind his counter. Riselle recognized the bag which he threw on the bar as her backpack, or what was left of. It contained an emptied moneypouch, a red shirt and a pair of leather gloves, that was all ...  
>Greymur looked sideways at her. She was no longer laughing nor smiling. "What happened to her armor set? Where did it go?" He demanded to know. "<strong>I do not know about any armor set! All I know is she still owns me a towel! And a lot of money to compensate me. Talk to Gazlowe, he apparently knows everything<strong>," the goblin sneered, bringing the conversation to an end. The grey orc nodded and sighed.

They left the tavern and walked towards Greymur's house instead. He had to think clearly before he could decide. He shook his head silently, being her guardian sounded like a difficult task suddenly. The problem was getting bigger and bigger. "So now you have no place to sleep," he thought aloud after a while. Riselle shook her head. It seemed that way. "Greymur, just deliver me to Hazer, then I'm out of your hair," she said, looking at him steadily.  
>"Of course not!" Came his reply, as if she just made a very stupid comment. He looked angrily at her now. She was not afraid of him to his surprise. His expression softened instantly when she tried to read him. "We seem to be in this together, we'll get out of this together," he promised.<p>

"Please Greymur Daggerscar, you have helped me like no other would ... I do not mind if you deliver me back to Asalt or request anybody else to be guarding me around. I do not even mind being held in that prison, believe me, it might be a better solution. I doubt you want my problems added to this as well," she tried to tell him, he gave her a loud growl to shut up. "You do not understand," she tried again.

"**I DO UNDERSTAND!"** He yelled, making her stand still for a moment, eyeing him as if she calculated her options. He cleared his throat, looking at his boots for a moment. **"I got orders for a job to guard you, and I will. Which means we will have to deal with things the way they are**!" He could ot help but still sound angered. Rena pressed herself against Riselles and whimpered softly after the fierce tone Greymur yelled in. If Riselle was shocked by his sudden aggressive stance than she did not let him see her off guard. The intimidating tone in which he ventured his anger made him realize that he was so frustrated over all of this that he was taking it out on the elf. "I ... I'm sorry," he murmured apologetic. "Greymur.. I," he turned away from her, he did not want to hear nor look her in the eyes after this embarrassing moment.

The irritating sound of the mechanical alarm-o-bot beside them got on his nerves again. He turned around and kicked it over. He would have loved to stamp on it or punch it to pieces. As it lay on its side, its feet in the air, still walking the same gait. She picked up the toy looking thing and put it upright again. "I do not want to hear it Riselle! We simply have to deal with it. I'm sure we can work it out." He sounded determined. The orc breathed deeply, trying to put the whole thing beside him for now.

"Now what?" She asked. He shrugged. "You sleeping on the streets is not an option." he mentioned. Her lips formed a tight line. "They have appointed me as your guardian, or guard or whatever, then I will. For as long as necessary," he said. "Maybe not entirely voluntarily perhaps, but we will make the best of it," he added. Her emerald-colored eyes followed him. He was a man of his word she had been told the night before her release. Asalt had asked her not to dissapoint him in that. She would try not to shame him. If anybody did a good job at guaridng something it was Greymur, Aslt had said to her over dinner. She thought she understood as she looked at him.

"So I suggest," he said, sounding a bit out of spirits:"that you temporarily stay with me until we find a solution and another room for you," he said stiffly. It was not a real invitation, but he had no other ideas right now. Nor money to settle her in another tavern. How could he keep an eye on her if she was out of his sight? Maybe he could ask Jeri and Jatfast to take her in for a while.

"Do you always invite a stranger into your home?" she asked gently. He scratched his beard and frowned, thinking for a moment. It probably sounded like an impulsive thought. "I think I just have," he said as he pondered. He had no idea what he was doing, but it felt right. Riselle did not protest. "My gratitude is great, Greymur Daggerscar I promise you I will repay your kindness," he heard her say. He ignored it as they walked toward his house.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Complications**

In front of Greymur's door sat Hurias. The young man looked somber when Greymur approached. Rena barked loud and ran off.

"What happened to you?" Not only did the elf have a somber expression, he was sweaty and dirty, not very Hurias like. Knowing the elf detested the way he usually returned from the mines Greymur hardly doubted he was here because they sent him home for looking the way he did.

"You broke your hand or something?" Hurias shook his head. "I got fired," was all he said. "Because Wiley complained," Greymur face palmed his head. Shaking it in a –no, this isn't happening- kind of way. Hurias didn't understand why the orc muttered and grumbled about that. Usually he would have laughed, slapped the elf on the shoulder in a hard way and told him to get over is. Now it seemed to take him uneasily.

"Don't start me about Wiley," was the first thing Greymur said while looking at his friend. Before Hurias could ask anything he noticed the person that appeared shyly into his view.

His mouth opened slightly when he looked at the woman clad in the black knee-high pants and the white blouse when she stood next to the burly hunter.

"W-who is this?" Hurias stammered, feeling uncomfortable suddenly seeing a stranger in front of him. Greymur grunted something. "She's a guest in my house," was all he got. Hurias hesitated when Greymur motioned him to follow when he opened the door to his house. "Long story," he added as the two elves looked awkward at each other.

The orc sighed. So many long stories added to the difficult pile that turned into his annoying frustration he would probably lose count. For some reason he felt this was not the last of it.

* * *

><p>Gazlowe looked difficult as he re-read the report in front of him again. The report was long and detailed, mostly about the annoyance of the orc refusing the new job. It had lain on his desk all morning before he had the want to open it and read about it."Zef, what the hell is this doing here? What is this? Why is this report so urgent that you had to lay it atop of the pile of other reports? Can't it wait?" Gazlowes stiff looking assistant looked less happy when Gazlowe found out what he done.<p>

Gazlowe scratched his chin. Sucking in his lower lip as he read it over. "Didn't I settle things with Asalt concerning the orc and the elf? I did, what the hell is this?" His look was far from happy when he saw his stiff looking assistant step over. "You told me to handle it sir. I did. I found the idea you and mister Asalt came up with unworthy for the orc, so I thought of a more pleasing way to spent his taken time with," Zef started.

"What? By having him do kitchen chores? I never asked you to change my plan Zef, all I asked you to do was handle it with care so it would be settled the way I planned it with Asalt," he said, his eyes fixed on his head assistant. "But sir…," came the nagging voice of the man with the half goggles. "I only changed the guard tasks and changed them to kitchen choirs, the man likes to cook, what can I say. It would be a waste to keep that from him would it not? I gave him something to do with his skills. He's a hunter sir…," the man tried to excuse himself. "I know, but he was also a guard in Orgrimmar. And Asalt worked with him during their bouncer jobs. Here I read you suggested to appoint a more suitable guardian for the elf woman? What were you thinking Zef? If I keep them together it saves me from having to keep an eye out on both of them. Greymur is very capable of a guarding job from my experience!" Gazlowe closed the report.

"There will be no changes made. Nor will there be a new guardian Zef," he told his assistant. "But sir…would somebody from Silvermoon not make a more…appropriate guardian for the time being? Until we know for sure she is in the clear?" Zef tried, knowing he walked on thin ice when Gazlowe grumbled.

"There will be no changes!" he said again, throwing the report in the bin under his desk. Zef saw all his hard work and his hours of writing gone in a mere second. Not to his liking.

"But..sir…it would not be appropriate for an orc to guard an elf. He should not be bothered with an important task to protect a witness in a murder investigation," the man protested. "The moment you run your own town, you do what you think is right. Like I do mine. You had no right to make changes in the decisions without my knowledge. Good for you that you are to honest and will always write a report. Lucky for you that you make such a fine assistant, or I would have had you removed," Gazlowe warned him. Zef gave him a distant glare over his half goggles. The man's eyes shining with discontent. Gazlowe did not notice the wry smile on the assistants face that predicted little good with the "Sure thing boss," he added to make it almost sound believable.

"Anything else?" Gazlowe asked, hoping for better tidings then all the reports on his desk would tell him. Zef looked at his clipboard, looking at all the scribbles he added to the column that said 'important' at the top of his paper. "Wiley has come again sir, complaining," the man said. "Tell Wiley that he can put it somewhere the daylight can't reach it. We have more urgent things to do around here," the goblin pointed out.  
>"Should I tell him that boss?" Gazlowe nodded. The stiff looking assistant grinned when he disappeared.<p>

With a sigh Gazlowe put the next report aside. Everybody needed him for something lately, but this week it seemed to be extreme. Everything came at the same time. Problem after problem after problem. Little problems, big problems, urgent matters, less urgent matters. They all needed his attention.

There was the matter of the increasing pile of dead people stacked up in the cool blocks his men had been digging near the healers into the side of the wall. A similar space such as they made for assistant Thumbscrew. Adinna's working place worked fine. Dead people instantly started to rot when they buried them. Last thing he wanted was his town dipped in the smell of decaying flesh if the wind stood down town. The healers had been complained the pile of corpses had started to smell and they had a hard time concentrating while doing their jobs. He needed them removed with.

Then there was Adinna Thumbscrews request. She had asked him if she could have apothecary Helbrim come to Ratchet for a second opinion on the corpse she was supposed to do an autopsy on. He needed the report on that autopsy to confirm how the woman in the tavern had died. As long as Adinna did not have that, his investigation was stuck. With Wiley nagging him about releasing the two rooms to rent out again he was on a time edge. It was easy enough for Adinna to have Helbrim do some tests on the corpse if that helped speed up the process in the investigation.

Other things worried him. Asalt, who had requested a temporarily doubling of his guard at the wharf because they expected a ship with important goods and bars of gold. In the brief communication he had over mail with the man he found the captain of the ship to request ridiculous matters before he would set sail to Ratchet with his cargo. But Gazlowe wanted to please the man, because having such an important cargo unload at his docks would help others put fate in his town. The more ships that docked Ratchet, the better the business.

Zef didn't help with his changes. He started complaining about Greymur's behavior when he saw Gazlowe after his return. Perhaps Zef had a point that a guardian of her own race would be more appropriate, but he could not request that from Silvermoon right now. Not after what Asalt told him.

There was the Thalo'thas Brightsun and his privateer's matter that needed attention. The boy Rommer that needed to be looked into. Ever since the boy got out of prison he instantly took up with petty thefts, annoying the shit out of Hazer for having him returned when caught red handed, which was often. Then there was Tony- Two Tusks and his band, and Captain Carvey that needed attention. And the rest of the problems. With the incident in the tavern he simply needed to rearrange priority on things. Gazlowe took a long sip from his half cold coffee and pulled a horrible face. He drank it nonetheless.

Right now he did not want to change anything about the situation, they would have to deal with things the way they were. But Wiley, Wiley could stick it up his arse for all he cared. The man had come nagging on almost daily bases about the income he did not earn due to the incident in his tavern. The out of control brawl in the Gang Bang where several people ended up in the water and were now lying in the infirmary and also needed his attention was a welcome distraction when he heard Wiley's nagging again this morning.

First on his list to get rid of where the hanged men. They had been left hanging far too long and needed to be out of Ratchet as soon as possible. He would have Zef take care of that. And the urgent letter from Overseer Hornkicker from the mines, which he had not even had time to open yet. And that was just today.

What to do about the hunter they caught in the tavern, the man refused to talk and the rogue who was still in the infirmary did not seem to recover well. It must have been quite the blow to the head if the elf woman managed to knock the man out like that. Or perhaps the man simply took up a bed to avoid going to jail. Gazlowe would have Hazer collect him this afternoon. It would save him two Bruisers to guard the man all day and night. He still had to ask Asalt about the hunters interrogation. Perhaps he simply needed to have his mind refreshed to answer any questions with a slightly more "urgent" technique. The rogue would not be whining for much longer the moment he was sent down Hazers jail.

"Gazlowe?" His second assistant appeared. There were more, at least they did not bother him today. "WHAT?" the big boss yelled. The man looked him over. "That gentleman is here," the assistant said. "What, who? Be more specific! Do you have any idea how many gentlemen there are in Ratchet?" Gazlowe grumbled aloud. "That person posing as royalty and threatened to burn down the whole port," his assistant enlightened him. Gazlowe thought for a moment as he remembered the man. Oh yes, that one. "The angry blonde! Send him in," the goblin said cynical.  
>"Boss, you know better than anyone how to deal with these slick types," his second assistant complimented him, leaving a mug with coffee on Gazlowes desk. It made the goblin boss smirk for a brief moment, knowing that at least one of his henchmen had fate in him. He picked up the mug with appreciation and drank the warm broth. Fresh coffee tasted so much better.<p>

Coffee! Coffee was a lifesaver sometimes. A companion for late nights when you did not want your head to be clouded by the warm fuzzy alcoholic haze that lured. He loved drinking a good mug of ale, but coffee did the trick when he needed to stay clear in his head. Nasty side effect was the restless way of sitting still. But that didn't concern him much.

The man came in with an air of stately importance, his staff held tight in his hands. His whole appearance was surrounded by something Gazlowe did not like the smell off. The elf looked around disapprovingly as he looked at what appeared to be very distasteful interior decoration for the goblins office. Gazlowe did not care much for his looks, this was his office and here was where he did his business.

"You calmed down after you last escapade? No plans to burn down anything I hope?" he informed the man and took a large sip of the dark brew from his mug. Gazlowe looked at the man, curious what he really wanted. The man snorted contemptuously. "I would like to discuss something with you, master Gazlowe," he said in a restrained tone. "I'm all ears," he heard Gazlowe say who turned his chair around. The man remained standing in his stiff way, apparently it did not please him that Gazlowes did not change his attitude. "I have time now, or you will have to make a new appointment, I'm quite busy," the goblin said, letting him know he was not going to wait on the man's terms. The irritated elf was not planning for any new appointment and accepted the invitation he was given now. Still angered that the goblin refused to talk to him on his terms.

The elf sighed and withdrew the hood of his cloak. A cascade of long blond hair fell over his shoulders, surrounding an extremely white face with bright blue eyes. He did not make a very appealing appearance to Gazlowe.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" the elf asked, almost offended. "No," replied Gazlowe. "But I remind you that you are visiting Ratchet and here you abide my rules. What you do at home is your own deal I could not care less about. If you come here threatening to burn down my port, I will treat you like any common criminal I have running around Ratchet," he said. "Funny you should mention criminals in a town like this," the man's voice sounded smug. Gazlowe eyed him.

"Enlighten me, who are you? I have not received any official announcement for a visit from some special envoy of Silvermoon. So to me you are worth as much as anybody else that walks in here," he remarked sharply. The man was clearly affected but recovered himself.  
>"Say what you have to say or disappearing from my office, I'm a busy man," the big boss said again. The elf apparently took no pleasure in the way things were presented to him the way he looked at the goblin.<p>

His bright blue eyes staring down at the goblin. Gazlowe noticed not only the disapproving look the man gave him. The eerie blue eyes resting on the goblin like a demons. Instead of the emerald colored eyes blood elves generally had he wondered if he dealt with a high elf instead. He was never quite sure.  
>The hands of the man were almost claw-like as the goblins eyes trailed off to the noticeable trembling fingers that clutching around the staff. It was obvious the man was trying to restrain from venturing his anger. Even so he could still see the hands of the man trembled. Although half of the elf's face was hidden under a fringe of his blonde hair, Gazlowe could see that he had a boney face, hollow cheeks with a sharp nose.<p>

Gazlowe got a bit of the jitters of the sickly-looking white elf in front of him.

"Well, let me at least _thank you_ for your time," the man began again, in a not very sincere tone. "I will be short," the faint grin on his face predicted little good. The goblin listened. "I know from reliable sources that there was an incident in the tavern. And I also know that a certain young lady was discharged," he began, his eyes narrowing.

"Old news, what of it?" Gazlowe said. The elf fumed silently. "I ask you on behalf of Silvermoon to extradition the young lady who was involved in the incident into my care," the elf said with certain authority in his voice.  
>"Is that so?" Gazlowe raised an eyebrow and took a last sip of his coffee mug before banging the thing on his desk. Wasn't that convenient.<p>

"And exactly under what authority in Silvermoon do I have to place you if I may ask?" he inquired subtle. The man looked at him. "Under the magisters ofcourse," he said proudly. Gazlowe wondered. "Exactly when did Silvermoons magister 'authorities' become involved in my incident and got notified of a certain young lady that got involved?" He asked. The elf smirked. "We…assumed you were informed. But it appears not. The woman wanted in Silvermoon master Gazlowe," the elf said, thinking he had the upper side now. "Is that so? Why did your 'authority' not contacted me sooner about this?" Gazlowe gave him a serious look. The blond elf gritting his teeth.

"... Since they have chosen a discrete approach," he lied. Gazlowe could almost taste the lie. Seeing it in the way the elf waited too long it wasn't solid enough for the goblin to believe one word the man said. But the man was well practiced with what he came up with. "We got informed off her capture the moment they took her into custody master Gazlowe. Ofcourse your town hosts enough of every race to consider that one might have a quick connection in Silvermoon to inform us do you not?" Gazlowe wondered how much the elf believed of what he was telling him. The man was lying if he had to believe his rogue senses. Even so what he said sounded logical.

The lips of the angry blond-haired man trembled unfavorable when Gazlowe did not immediately answered him."I think if these 'authorities' of Silvermoon you speak off, have business with me and wish to claim one of my prisoners as their own, they will need to do it the official way," he stated. The man gritted his teeth when he heard that. "Silvermoon authorities have clearly requested me to collect the prisoner for them," he said, again filled with that same clogged up annoyance. "If, and if they truly do find that they have the right to lay claim to a person in my care that is witness to a running investigation, they have no right to request her release until I'm done," Gazlowe ticked with his nails against the mug. Tick tick tick…his nails went. The man grabbed his forehead with both hands for a moment, shaking it as if to get rid of something. He swallowed deeply. "Will you please stop that, it hurts my ears," the goblin heard him ask, the eerie blue eyes fixed on the mug. Gazlowe merely smirked.

"I suggest you to fill out the necessary forms, like anybody else, and the woman will be released in your custody as soon as my investigation is done," he announced and stood up. "When is that," the man demanded to know.

"I do not know, whenever I feel like I'm done with investigating what I need in my town," Gazlowe said. The elf gritted his teeth, subduing a cough that bothered him.  
>"I think you do not understand," he heard the man say slowly after he cleared his throat. His voice changed in height when his time was apparently up. "I think I do. And I think you would do well to report back to your...Silvermoon authorities that I will not have some person threaten my port burned down and then think he can come in and claim a prisoner that has been arrested in my town," the goblin said. He noticed the slight change in the man, his stance defensive as was his expression.<p>

"Perhaps I have not made myself clear enough master Gazlowe," his voice sounded dark when he said that, dangerous. Gazlowe could feel the cold threat looming in the words the man spoke to him. "I think you misunderstand greatly...master Gazlowe. You will do well to cooperate with Silvermoon, if you do not wish anybody hurt in your...precious port," the man said. Gazlowe raised his eyebrows. Wondering if the man would show his true colors. If the elf was really thinking he was impressed by a simple threat he was wrong. It was clear the man, if he even was sent by Silvermoon authorities, was not going to negotiate with Gazlowe about the woman he apparently wanted.

"This conversation is over sir, I ask you to leave," he said. The blood elf snorted loudly. "I will spell it again for you master Gazlowe...you will do well to reconsider...before any accidents happen," the elf said defiantly. His eyes flashed dangerously. "If you think I will bow to any of your simple threats think again. If you do not remove yourself I will have you removed. I think I said we were done talking," Gazlowe let him know. "Get out ... **NOW**!" Gazlowe could not be any clearer as he pointed at the door.

"The woman, master Gazlowe, she will give you no more trouble if you agree to hand her over now. Be realistic, for your own and the sake of the people that live in this…mud hole," the blond haired elf said again. "**Leave now, if I catch as much as a glimpse of you in Ratchet again I'll seriously lock you away where no Silvermoon authorities will ever find you**," the goblin was furious. The elf sniffed deeply, clearly annoyed. He moved slowly toward the door. Gazlowe grunted as the man did not move himself fast enough.

"You just made a huge mistake master Gazlowe," the low raspy growl that escaped from the throat of the angry blonde man when he attacked Gazlowe was blocked by a well-aimed kick of the big boss himself. He hit him right in his crotch so the angry blonde fell backwards, grunting painfully. The man gurgled something and jumped up after he recovered himself. Dangerously swinging his staff around to give Gazlowe a blow to his head. The goblin calculated the situation as rapidly as he did numbers, seeing the angry blond had recovered a tad too fast to his surprise. The man muttered something in an unfamiliar speech, stormed forwards in an angry cry and tried to knock over Gazlowe. The elf tongue was not something he understood well enough when the man cursed him, but he was sure it wasn't a compliment. The impact of the corruption that hit him was painful. The elf aimed for the side of his head now. The top of his staff dangerously swinging passed him as Gazlowe ducked. The staff banged into Gazlowes desk, leaving a crack in the simple wood it was made of.

The mug and most of his stacked papers littering the ground in a rain of chaos. The elf wielded the staff over his head again to take another blow. That the man was well trained with it the old rogue did not doubt. He had tricks up his sleeves as well. The burning blue eyes faced a smirking Gazlowe. He might have been a little rusty, but he was still a rogue and quick as a thief, experienced enough to see what the elf was going to do next. The elf hissed as Gazlowe disappeared on him with a quick handy ability of his own for a moment, making it hard for the elf to spot him instantly as his eyes scanned the small office.

With the shake of an arm Gazlowe produced a throwing knife. The elf caught sight of him on the other end of the room. The shadow bolt hit the wall above him, shaking a painting from its pin as it clattered down an inch away from Gazlowes ear. That could have hit him on the head. "**Enough**!" the big boss said fiercely and aimed his knife. Without further ado he threw the knife towards the elf. It carved a deep gash in his arm. Black ooze dripping from the wound. The angry blonde growled low, a dirty watery gargle before he took the knife from his arm and went wild. The bright blue eyes fixed on Gazlowe again. The goblin produced another throwing knife, letting it rest in his hand to feel its balance before he would throw. The angry blonde whispered a spell in his own tongue, whatever it was, it had no effect on the goblin. The second spell did...the throwing knife missed the elf's head when Gazlowe was taken by the whispers in his mind.

"_Today I'll drink to your health—may it long be mine_," the dark laughter of the angry blonde elf echoed in his head when the unpleasant feeling of invisible hands got hold of him, sucking his energy out of him. It almost took his breath away so heavily did it press on his chest. Like liquid hot iron it burned in his chest. The hunted feelings replacing the hot one, bringing forth an almost uncontrollable panic when it became more intense. He felt every movement slowed down when he was slowly drained. As he nearly threatened to drop to the ground he did something he knew saved him many times in his younger years. A rogues best trick…

With a final gesture the goblin suddenly disappeared from eye sight again. Simply vanishing. The angry blond elf cursing loudly as his spell was so abruptly cut off.

The sap hit the angry blond by surprise as his whole body swaying from left to right, making him dazed. Incompetent for a few seconds. When Gazlowe was sure the man would not break his sap he appeared out of his stealth again.

**"Boss! Boss**?"Assistant Thumbscrew opened the door without knocking and barged into Gazlowes office. Zef came running after her. "**Miss Adinna**! You cannot simply ignore me and walk in while disturbing the boss!" He heard his stiff looking assistant call out to Adinna, trying to scold the woman for having no respect for him. They both looked bluffed when they saw the big boss it his breathless state. "Boss? Are you okay? What are you doing? I heard so much noise? And miss Adinna here did not want to wait ... and then. "Gazlowe wheezed and let the cascade of information pass him as his head assistant finally realized he needed to shut up halfway through his next sentence.

"**I'm dancing here Zef, can't you see that? What do you think it is I'm doing here? Having a tea party with an angry elf perhaps**?" Gazlowe shook his head. The half goggles of his personal assistant almost fell off his nose when he saw his boss standing next to the sapped elf. Adinna Thumscrew chuckled loudly. "Boss…I did not know…I'm sorry!" Zef said, his stiff looking appearance not changing much. "Did he attack you?" Adinna asked as she watched the scene.  
>"Bravo for Adinna's remarkable observation," Gazlowe sneered. Assistant Thumbscrew smiled.<p>

"I would suggest…Zef, to get some bleeding Bruisers in here. And Adinna stop your gloating and tell me how good your mind controlling skills are?" Gazlowe decided on the spot. The wide smile she gave him was followed by a - very good actually- as she looked at him. Exactly what Gazlowe wanted to hear, before the man was released from his inept position he needed to be sure Adinna had his back up. "Good, now what was it you barged in here for?"Gazlowe asked, taking another deep breath. "I think the corpse moved," she said. He looked awkward after that. More news he could not use.

"Great, what is taking Helbrim so long," he grumped as he shook his arm to loosen his muscles. Adinna helped him a bit with a small healing spell. It eased his ache. "Maybe you need to practice some more of your old skills boss, I think you're getting a bit rusty" Adinna pointed out to him with a sly smirk. He gave her a rude gesture with his hand. She giggled loudly.

* * *

><p>"You're fired because Wiley filed a complaint, why does that not surprise me" Greymur said and poured the elf a mug of water. He drank greedily from it. "We were clearly no longer welcome at the tavern either," the orc remarked in a dry tone. Hurias looked from Greymur to Riselle. The female blood elf still had not said anything since he had stared at her and Greymur for several minutes. First he hardly recognized her, not without beautiful plate armor she had worn and her well kept hair the first time he met her.<p>

Before him stood an elf on bare feet, only dressed in a pirate outfit according to him. The black knee trousers and the white blouse were not exactly common clothing for any women in Silvermoon.  
>Id didn't take him long to recognize hr though. When he noticed the long strands of unkempt auburn hair the picture fit and he saw who she was. Hurias had mainly wondered why the orc had Riselle with him. But the orc did not tell anything. Leaving Hurias to be curious and guess what the woman was doing here.<br>The bond elf had stared and stuttered when he had recognized her, completely captivated by the presence of the blood elf woman. Although she looked scruffy, she still was a very beautiful woman in his eyes. Completely blushing he had not dared to look her straight in the eyes after that.

"Are you okay?" Greymur's grin was dubious when he looked at the elf. Knowing exactly what caused the dismay the elf was in. "Or does it perhaps have something to do with average looking…things?" He chuckled. Hurias gave him an angry glare as he heard the orc use his own words against him.

"Why are we no longer welcome in the tavern?" he changed the subject quickly and looked at Greymur. Riselle examined them both, observing. She also noted that the Hurias was nervous, but she did not say anything. "He told us we were the main problem for his loss of income," Greymur said a little sarcastic and made a bad impression of how Wiley had kept up his broomstick, threatening and very explicitly pointing at Riselle. Riselle grinned.  
>"So ... we are officially banned from the tavern?" the blonde elf bit his lip, looking sideways at the woman who watched him. He felt another blush creep up from his neck. "We know Wiley longer than today. He always needs something to grumble about," Greymur mentioned. Hurias let his forehead rest on Greymur's table.<p>

"He'll let us come when business is booming again and we made him some sort of peace offer, then he does not care. Thought the trouble was that her armor was no longer there when we collected her things," Hurias his head shot up. "Was it stolen?" he now dared to glare at Riselle. "Looks like that," he said as Hurias looked out of spirits. "How can ...did J…," the elf stammered, keeping himself from pronouncing the name as he changed color again when Greymur gave him a sharp look. "Hurias, you change color so much I dare say the sun might have given you sunstroke. Why do you not freshen up a bit?"Greymur mentioned subtly when he looked at the embarrassed elf that turned red in the face again. "Go upstairs, you know where to find things," he said again with some urgency. Hurias nodded quickly, that sounded like a good idea. He quickly got up and disappeared.

"Your friend seems quite shy?" Riselle had observed him well enough not to be fooled. The orc grinned at her. "Hurias is still young, I think, though he himself claims not" he said, Riselle nodded. She chuckled quite sure of herself when he said that. The orc frowned again. "I do not want to be rude, but I know any elf in general is much older then what they look like," he told her. "This theory is true for most elves, it depends a bit on the situation I guess. I am considered a 'youngster' to most of the adults, but Hurias," she smiled again. "I think he still has a long way to go before he has proved himself to the circle of elderly elves to accept him as an adult, no matter his age," she said.

"I'm considered…growing into adulthood by half a century according to my people. Which leaves me to the title youngster still." She continued. Greymur listened to her clear voice. She seemed to be an easy talker. Despite everything he had been right when he thought she had more life experience when he first saw her, unlike their own blood elf.

He grinned, feeling less annoyed then before. Though not less curious. She could tell he still had a lot to he wanted to ask, but kept silent. There would probably still be a moment when it would be discussed again.

* * *

><p>"Jatfast ... sweetheart ..." Jeri licked her lips as she looked at him. The green of her lipstick was long gone after their rather passionate moment. The duration of their lovemaking a new record before he spilled into her. The red blankets on their bed lay in all corners of the room. Actually, she had simply dragged him there by the collar of his leather shirt and locked the bedroom door after they came home this morning. She needed to get her frustrations satisfied. The best way of doing that…making Jatfast do her bidding in the bedroom.<p>

Jatfast loved it. Jeri-in-beserk-mode he always called it when she was excited. Jeri had a passion for being excited at many different levels. Her passion variant his by right as he claimed it, but Jeri could make it look like he had no rights at all.

But he loved it when his wife preferred to rip the clothes from his body and would yell at him with her loud voice to get on top of her. She could be very possessive when he didn't exactly do what she wanted him to do. Teasing her did not always help. She would tell him how much he was worth to her in money according to the current market value. When gold dropped in price and she compared him with that he would give her a pout. Trying to do his best to please her more until she was satisfied.

"Jatfast ... darling ..." she said again and jingled the bedroom moneypouch. The pouch was filled with silver, some copper coins and ten golden ones. "Is this exciting enough for another round?" she said between half-closed eyelids. He pondered. "Is there gold in it?" he inquired not very subtle. She gave him a disapproving look. "Yes," was her disapproving reply as she suddenly stood up. "Jeri?" She heard him call after her.

"**No, nevermind!** It is clear to me you have no more stamina for another round of passion with me. Once you start asking if I put gold in our bedroom moneypouch then my 'passion value' drops to **sold** and **goodbye**," she said, offended. She moped, he did not like it when she moped. "Are you truly getting old? Where is that stamina of yours when you were still serving in that bomb squad?" she complained loudly. Jatfast grumbled. Did she have to bring that up again?

"Sweetie…I was in training back then, I could not slack when I was part of that. It required more stamina then I have now I'll admit that," he tried to explain. "Perhaps you should offer to re-enter into the new bomb squads, I hear they are re-planning their idea's off recreating those," she said blunt as she looked sulking. "Where did get that information?" he wondered. Jeri gave him an angry glare. "My sister, who else!" she sneered. Jatfast did not reply when she said that. Jeri's fourth sister was situated in Area 52 in Outlands, she would have first hand in that news. Eventually he got up himself, putting his clothes back on. If Jeri's mood turned than he could best make himself scares or immediately jumped into action and try and draw her back into her better mood, otherwise he had a problem. Jeri had the tendency to get stuck in bad moments.

"Let's go to Greymur?" he suggested. She growled. "Or do you want to walk around the market? I heard they had received new slaves, then we can sit and laugh at them with some complacency ridicule because they are such idiots. I mean, who lets himself be enslaved right?" He laughed sadistically, hoping Jeri would drop her attitude.

"No, I am not in the mood for that," she muttered. "How about me asking around for the latest entertainment then?" She kicked him in his knee. It wasn't hard, but painful enough. "Well if you want to sit here and sulk then I will be off to Greymur alone," he said finally. Not wanting to look at his wife in a mood like that. "Geez! Give me a moment will you?" she said in a stingy tone as she repainted her lips in a different shade of green again. "I want to come too, I never said I did not want to go," she said and looked if the rest of her make-up looked all right. Jatfast could not follow his wife's mood swings sometimes.

And her mood wasn't quite back to normal when they walked towards Greymur.

"You know, if I get my hands on the one responsible for your imprisonment ... then I'll redo his face with my bare hands, for free" she said with renewed energy. Jatfast was not sure if this was a prelude to something he had to warn others about.  
>"Honey, I'm free again? Let's not linger on what has happened. Gazlowe kept his promise didn't he? Just let him solve this thing and you can always volunteer to "help" when the less tactful approach is needed in their interrogation," he said. Jeri nodded, hooking her arm through his.<br>"Sometimes Jatfast Fastfingers, sometimes I wonder about you and your wonderful idea's," she smiled again. He grinned wickedly and received a kiss on his cheek.

"Did we thank Greymur by the way?" Jeri suddenly wondered. Jatfast shook his head. "My strong muscular guy has really run around all night to help me," she said appreciative. Jatfast looked at her in a rather awkward way. "Your strong muscular guy? I thought Jewels called him that?" he asked. Jeri smiled briefly. "I thought it was catchy. You're not jealous are you honey? "she asked him. Jatfast quickly shook his head, how could he be jealous of an orc with a face as ugly as Greymur?

"Owww ... Jatfast, honey ... you're my sweetheart. Because I'm married to you! Greymur is my grey big muscular guy and ... Hurias, well Hurias is my pretty boy ... you know? " she flattered him. Jatfast muttered something unintelligible. "I am your sweetheart?" he murmured gently. "Yes, silly! You're worth much more in money then Greymur and Hurias," she assured him. She pulled up a subtle eyebrow and gave him another kiss on his cheek. Jatfast almost flew up in the air after that. With a sly smirk he whispered that the she might have to jingle the bedroom moneypouch again after they would return from Greymur.

Jeri never knocked, she simply lock picked Greymur's door to get inside. Jatfast chuckled. Upon entering Jatfast was quite surprised to see an acquaintance sitting at Greymurs table. Jeri did too, but not in the same way Jatfast did.

"Hey neighbor! Nice to see you walk around free again! What brings you to Greymur? No let me guess. They've moved you from Hazers prison, because I have seen them do that and then I heard nothing anymore. I bet Hurias here came to the rescue?" Riselle looked at the slight embarrassed elf in front of her. She almost felt sorry for him as he so obviously wanted to hide somewhere. Jatfast seemed to excited to notice when he saw the blood elf female. She recognized him immediately, he could see it by her smile. He forgot Jeri for a moment and settled himself at Greymurs table. The orc did not look very surprised that the pair came in without knocking his door.

"Well, it looks like the whole group is complete now, " the grey orc said.

"**GREYMUR DAGGERSCAR**!" his name was called as if he would get the death penalty. Everyone looked at Jeri who was pointing to Riselle. "**How could you! What does ... what does that shiny shit do here**? "Jatfast gritted his teeth. Moments earlier Jeri was still in a good mood and now suddenly she jumped back to a temper, which he thought he prevented. "Honey, that is Riselle. She was placed at the same corridor I was in when we were in jail. She was the woman from the incident in the tavern," Greymur shot him an angry glance. Jatfast realized too late that he accidentally said too much.

"And obviously Greymur has not told you that ...," was his sheepish reply.

"So you were responsible for that whole incident? **Good to know**!" Jeri cracked her knuckles again, she was clearly furious. Riselle stared at the woman. No idea why she reacted so angrily. She acted as if Riselle had done something terrible the way she was pointing at her. She did not know what was going on, but she felt she needed to ease the situation. What better way than to introduce yourself properly, or that usually worked. The blood elf stood up and walked towards the furious looking goblin woman, her hand outstretched to introduce herself.

Greymur was too late to stop her. Instead Jeri flew straight at her, slamming her fist full into Riselles face. A sickening crack was heard. Jeri moaned and whined as she shook her hand back and forth after the impact. Riselle seized her nose with two hands and uttered a painful cry as blood gushed over her chin onto her white shirt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: To mope**

Jeri walked with a very angry look on her face as she passed through the transparent curtain that gave access from the reception through to the bar annex waiting area of The Pink Stocking. She sighed irritated when she did not see Jewels around. Where was her sister when she needed her? Ofcourse she had been stubborn when the receptionist already told her Jewels was occupied. Jeri, as always, wanted to see for herself.

And as expected, Jewels proved not to be present.

Jeri let her head hang when she looked around the room for a moment. She really had the need to talk to somebody right now. But she could not blame Jewels for not being around when she needed her. With a sad face she realized she was standing there alone, besides some of the girls that passed her on their way out. To her surprise there was hardly anybody present while usually the place would be packed with the men and women working here or with waiting costumers making a choice of their liking for a pleasurable evening of fun.

"She has a rather important customer and won't be down for another few hours," Levina said. Jeri looked at the woman that addressed her. She had seen Levina before but did not know her very well. Apparently she had bar duty tonight. Jeri folded her shoulders, crossing her arms in front of her and nodded, she knew that already. Levina smiled. "But you're welcome to wait here for her if you like," she said warmly. The woman pointed at one of the empty spots near her bar. Jeri hesitated for a moment, looking at Levina -who uncorked a bottle and poured a drink in a glass from a cabinet beneath the bar- and looked at Jeri with a special smile. The gesture too inviting to say no to when she offered her the drink.

Jeri made herself comfortable by letting herself fall with a thud in one of the bar chairs that had these lovely comfortable thick blue and pink cushions.

"If it is really important I can always ask her down for you?" Levina mentioned. Jeri shook her head. It wasn't important enough to disturb Jewels in her work. But she wanted to talk to someone so badly she was willing to wait if she had to. And Jewels was usually the first person she turned to when she was in trouble or created a mess. Jewels would listen to her, hear her out and then point out the good and the bad things of the situation. Weighing them as if they were on a scale. After that she would always advice her in some way to do what was best. It was a guidance Jeri sometimes needed. Something she could not ask her mother for. This was a sister thing. And Jewels was her favorite.

Jewels seemed to be a bit more realistic and logical in comparison to Jeri, who would let her emotions do the talking instead of reason with herself. More unlike Snowy, their third sister, whom liked to be on top of things and arrange things needed. Both Jeri and Snowy shared the same foulmouthed way of talking sometimes. Though Jeri seemed better at blurting out things then Snowy, they looked alike, unhappy as it made Jeri to think she resembled more of her third sister then she did Jewels. Jeri was best described as short fused and highly explosive, like a badly attuned bomb.

Snowy had similar treats to her character. Not unlike their fourth sister in Area 52. But Brazzle was the next to Jewels the most sensible one. But she wasn't here. Jewels was. And Snowy was on the other side of the world in Undercity.

Then there was Adinna, a cousin, but Jeri did not feel like taking this problem to her. The woman would only bounce up and down and be angry about anything Jeri was angry about without helping her reason about the situation. She really needed Jewels for this.

"Do you not want your drink?" Levina inquired. Jeri looked up, absently, disturbed from her train of thoughts and quickly nodded. "Yes, sorry, thank you very much," she said.

"You look worried?" Levina noticed. Jeri bit her lower lip, was it that obvious. "It's fine, I'll wait for Jewels to come down when she is ready," she said in a sulky tone. Levina nodded and gave her a smile. Jeri looked into her glass, it was a dark brown substance which smelled of alcohol, it was good. Anything with alcohol would do right now. The first sip was bitter but ultimately had a faint anise aftertaste. Jeri closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the aftertaste as she grew more comfortable in her sulking mood hanging at the bar and moping about the situation.

Jeri leaned her elbows on the bar, nearly knocking off a pile of magazines that lay next to her. She frowned in a curious way when she saw the covers, showing pictures of women in rather strange poses. "Ugh...," Levina heard Jeri say as she shoved the magazines aside. Not motivating enough to pick one up and read it. The woman smiled. "They're actually really good," she said. "Seriously? People actually read that stuff?" Levina nodded. Jeri smirked sarcastically. "Most customers that have to wait enjoy reading the magazines The Pink Stocking provides for entertainment," she explained. Jeri could only imagine what perverted stories the magazines could contain, understanding it was quite normal for an establishment such as this to keep track of reading material like that. It probably made the customer work his imagination before going up with one of the girls.

Levina looked at her while she held her head slightly to the side, eyeing Jeri from another angle with a specific smile. Jeri looked back at the human female. She was a pretty girl for a human. Levina was wearing a blue corset that was barely fit for her bosom. It was trimmed with light blue mini bows at the top and the bottom for decoration. She had matching stockings to go with her corset Jeri had already noticed when she leaned a little further over the bar to look at the woman.

The bar was situated in a corner of the room where customers could wait. It gave an opportunity to eat and drink, made use off by most regular Pink Stocking customers when they had to wait for their favorite lady or gentleman. Because there were also two gentlemen working here.

The waiting room was nicely separated from the reception. Making sure if somebody entered they could not immediately see who was walking around, unless they came through the curtain.

The transparent curtain also gave atmosphere to the place. Both the bar and the waiting area were dressed in a variety of different tones of pink and blue, giving a cozy atmosphere. With deep-seated cushions and benches where you could lounge or doze off while killing time. The seats at the bar held the same fine cushions that made you sit comfortably. The decorations on the wall were mostly paintings. They showed rather scantily clad ladies and gentlemen posing in wild scenes. There was also a large portrait in the centre of the room, portraying the original founders of the 'business' as it was called indoors. Showing a clumsily painted couple of two goblins that were supposed to be the original owners of the very first Pink Stocking. Jeri thought it fitted in nicely with the rest of the decoration of the brothel. If there was anything you could say about the house was that the staff was friendly. Jeri loved coming here. Unlike some she knew who had a sister or friend working as a lady of pleasure in a brothel, she was not offended nor embarrassing that her sister had chosen a profession like this. Jewels wasn't afraid to admit she was doing a good job and she held happy customers that returned.

It seemed Jewels was cut out for this line of work and never held back she was what she was. Started as one of the girls, but growing into better ranks over the years.

Jewels had already risen in the ranks to madame, sharing the title with a couple of other ladies. Madame was actually the next step up. There were a few other titles you could receive, the higher the title the fewer likely to share it with you in name. Also making your responsibilities change as well as your duties that came along with the title. As 'madame' was already a big step forward for Jewels, she still a long way to go before she would ever be nominated for the highest title in The Pink Stocking; Duchess of Loose Morals.

Being a madame meant that you had more privileges than the regular girls. You say she could be more picky in the choice of customer.

The Bruisers doing duties in the brothel area worked together with the bouncers that were mainly hired by the owners of the brothels. Sometimes they were Bruisers off duty earning a little extra money, sometimes they were random individuals such as Greymur once was. Jeri knew from experience Asalt made sure he would sent boys that behaved themselves. The last thing he could use were Bruisers having a night out while they were supposed to be on shift. Even though Jeri herself would never choose a profession like this, she was still proud of Jewels doing it. Respect was perhaps the better word.

The Pink Stocking was only a small brothel, but a merry one. You could find any type of class here. The core staff had a rotating system where all the ladies and gentlemen working would do different chores. Sometimes they were there purely as a hostess, making sure the food was served, people got their drinks and if they had to wait too long to make sure the customer did not walk away. Or they would have the bar shift like Levina had right now. Sometimes they would be hosting the reception or simply work to please the customers in the rooms upstairs. Though the brothel was a well known establishment it seemed rather quiet right now.

"Where is everybody?" Jeri dared to ask. Levina smiled. "This is what they call 'dinner time' where employees can either chose to have a break to eat or do something else before they come back to work. It varies a bit. It's always fairly quiet at this time of day, but there will be booming business later in the evening I'm sure," she said.

"I'm sure it will be if I hear Jewels sometimes," she agreed a bit somber. Jeri emptied her glass with brown liquid in one go, then sighed. Time did not go fast enough for her. Levina gave her a questionable look before she poured Jeri another drink from the same bottle without asking if she even wanted it. She observed her, Jeri instantly saw that as Levina did not hide her interest in the woman. "Would you like to talk about it?" she inquired. Jeri looked rather surprised. Levina gave her a beautiful smile as she kept looking at Jeri.

Jewels always said most of the girls were sweethearts. Levina proved to be one right now. Jewels sometimes talked about the girls and their habits. Funny things they would say or do during their shifts. Not that she would go into details, but she would mention things casually. Jeri could not quit remember what it was Jewels said about Levina. "You're welcome to share the bar with me and keep me company until Jewels is ready. Maybe I can..._distract…_ you for the time being?" she said with a joyful tone in her voice. Jeri looked at the woman. She regretted that she could not remember what exactly Jewels had told her.

She eyed the woman. In front of her stood a very attractive young woman with long blond hair held together by a headband. Levina had a very nicely shaped figure with what Jatfast would call "huuuuuuuuuge roundings" but there was something about her... What was it again? Except that she was beautiful Jewels had been enthusiastic about the woman, and Jeri annoyed herself she could not remember. She grumbled to herself.  
>The words kind, pretty and helpful popped up in her mind, but that was not it when she tried again. She sighed, it would probably come back to her again.<p>

The woman did not insist on her previous proposal, something Jeri liked about her. She mentioned it once, but gave Jeri the choice to either leave it or do something with it. Levina just gave her one of those enchanting smiles as she engaged herself in arranging different types of glasses and mugs behind the bar. "You know, it's actually nothing special, just some bogus," Jeri finally said, still a bit annoying about her situation. She looked down and touched her half-empty glass with a finger, letting her nail softly follow the curve of the rounding. Levina tilted her head and glared at her. Long enough to tell Jeri she did not believe it was a simple matter.

"Depends on the situation," Levina said and threw in one of those charming smiles again. Jeri sighed, why did this woman had such a gorgeous smile! "It's all so confusing," she confessed with a sigh, setting the real tone of her mood. "Sounds as if you could do with another drink, as you sound rather heavy on the subject," Levina said in a sincere way. Jeri eyed her. "Have you never had the feeling that everything was suddenly weird? As if you were being left out and there was nothing you could do about it? That a situation looked different from your point of view but nobody would tell you anything?" she asked. Levina thought for a moment, throwing her fine blond hair over her shoulder.

"Probably," she said eventually. Jeri blew a strand of her own hair from her eyes and arranged it behind her ear. "Last week was such a weird week, so much things happened that I just do not know where to begin," Jeri complained. Levina looked at her with interest.

"I'm sorry, I feel quite angry right now. Especially now all my friends seem to be running wild because of that stupid elf woman who was on the shiny shit list but a week ago," she said stiffly.  
>"I do not want to be rude, but what exactly is a shiny shit?" she wanted to know. Jeri sighed. Ofcourse Levina did not know that term. Nobody knew that term unless they were befriended with Jeri and her group. Or they would know about the weird sort of fun they had about shiny shits.<p>

"Shiny shits are the persons who walk into Ratchet thinking they own the place. You know the type that comes straight of the boat, all dressed up in mostly shiny or new armor that has never seen a scratch before. They come barging in thinking they will make a fortune in the Barrens the moment they take a turn. Probably hoping to run into some forgotten treasure. Or they surround themselves with such air they think they can dissolve anything by simply staring at it. You know, the rather extreme people who think that nothing can harm them. We always have to laugh a bit about those types, me and my friends. But it was not intended that the latest shiny shit suddenly appeared into the house of my orc friend, as if she was a new addition to our group!" Jeri said with a sigh.

"Do you know her? Or have you been introduced before? Because it sounds like you're struggling with this woman?" Levina said, fixing a bottle to the wall. Jeri thought for a moment, apparently that thought had not crossed her mind. Well it had, but she would not have listened anyway knowing herself. So she shrugged when she could give a straight answer to that question.  
>"Have you asked why she was there," Levina asked. Jeri shook her head. No she didn't. What she mostly did was explode in anger, yelling at Greymur for being a turncoat and hitting the woman in the face. "Asking is not my greatest asset I fear," she sounding sadistic when she remembered her instant readiness to smash her fist into the woman's face. She remembered she was especially very angry when she found out the wench was familiar with Jatfast and turned out to be the cause of his prison adventure, or so she interoperated it. All Jeri wanted was to punch the woman in de face, which she did without thinking reasonable.<p>

"I just do not understand why that woman was suddenly in Greymurs house," she muttered. "Greymur?" Levina repeated the name with a knowing smile. Jeri wondered what Levina knew more than she did.  
>"Your sister will soon have a 'date' with him soon right?"Jeri nodded slowly. Looking as neutral as possible. She did not say anything about the "date" being a rather involuntary scheme where she had simply exchanges the options Greymur or Hurias to Jewels to obtain that voucher. It was a case of life or death Jeri kept telling herself.<p>

"I've seen him around, big grey orc hunter, well-built man," she said and subtly licked her lips when she said that. She smirked when Jeri gasped at her. "What? He's a very attractive man for his species and your sister is looking forward to her date with him. Some envy her for finally getting him in. It's not like he seems to favor taking pleasure in a brothel," Levina said and chuckled. Jeri had to rethink about that.

Greymur attractive? Jeri laughed out loud for a moment, finding the whole idea all very amusing. If Greymur was considered attractive here, where would the world end? She wisely did not reply to that. But she would use the information to tease him, if they would ever be alright again.  
>"Men can be so stupid sometimes," Jeri said instead. Levina looked at her and grabbed the bottle again. She filled a clean glass and shoved in into Jeri's direction as she took the empty glass away to wash up.<br>"I'm sure they can," she said with a smile and splashed the empty glass in soapy water she held behind the bar in a bucket. "Yes, that's true. But it was all so weird when I came in and saw her sitting there. It seemed like everybody was aware of something and they did not let me in on the big secret," The corners of Jeri's mouth pulled down.

Levina was silent for a moment. Then her face brightened again. "I would say, if it bothers you so much, why not go back to Greymur and ask him about it?" she said, looking closely at the glass before drying it off with a linen cloth. Jeri said nothing, she only sighed deeply. "You know," Levina began, and bend over as she leaned her arms on the bar," sometimes you have to look at things in another perspective to clarify them. A situation can look far less horrible once you have let it rest for a while. You know, get your mind off of things," she pursed her lips slightly as she eyes Jeri's reaction. The goblin nodded briefly, the face of the woman was now very close to hers she realized.

"Also ... when…well, you did something you kind of wanted to? Like whack a specific person right in the face with your fist? After realizing that you kind of secretly….well regret you did that because your kind of forgot to ask and jumped to conclusions first?" she said. Levina nodded, her nose almost touching Jeri's nose by now. Jeri swallowed uncomfortable and blinked her eyes when the woman came so close it felt like she was invading her personal space. She straightened herself by sitting a bit back on her stool. Leaving a large gap between Levina and the bar. Levina grinned lightly as she took the hint. Jeri was doubtful about what she had done so far. When the beautiful woman smiled at her again she didn't know what to think. The woman's beautiful blue eyes pierced into Jeri's eyes, holding her gaze as if she tried to hypnotize her. She really did have beautiful eyes, even Jeri had to agree on that. She instantly slapped herself, what was she thinking!?

"Here," Levina said to Jeri with a radiant little smile. The goblin looked at the glass. Feeling she had consumed a lot of alcohol by now. "Are you trying to get me drunk or something?" Jeri looked with the keen eye of an experienced alcoholic at the woman in front of her, already far passed the line of being tipsy she realized. "Not necessarily, only if you want to," was the answer. Levina chuckled when she saw Jeri stuck out her tongue at the beautiful woman. Levina blew her a hand kiss to which Jeri - before she realized what she was doing – caught with her hand. She stared at her own hand. Solemnly as if she was counting her odds. What was she doing?

Was she really so drunk that she was even responding to the advances of a woman?

Suddenly she remembered again!

A blurry stream of a conversation she had with Jewels about some of the girls once. Jewels had been full of praise about Levina, not only about her appearance. She was particularly delighted with the 'multiple skills' the women seemed to have. And she was not only pleasant to look at, her greatest assets were that of a 'versatile' person as Jewels had said. Jeri remembered that Jewels translation that as somebody who was interested in both men and women.

Jeri's jaw dropped when the copper coin finally fell. She let herself fall back on the cushion with a thud. "Woa woa woa…I may be drunk, but I'm not retarded! Hold on here!" she replied in a silly way, making Levina chuckle louder. "Damned Levina...you were flirting with me the whole time?" Jeri had finally discovered the obvious. Levina laughed heartily.  
>"It was mostly to tease, and not the whole time. Only the last hour," she said. "Jewels instructed us that you were not into women," she said. "But you looked like you could use a talk with a semi stranger. And before I knew it I was doing things I would usually do to my customers. Trying to cheer you up with my feminine charms," she laughed. "You looked so astray when you came in…," she told Jeri.<p>

Jeri raised an eyebrow and looked at the woman again. Jatfast would have poked her, trying to convince her to dive into it, adding a third addition to their party. But she was not here with Jatfast. He was still on her list of idiots right now. Jeri looked sullen for a moment. "I'm flattered, I truly am. Would I have been a guy I'm sure I would have been interested," she said and then grinned at Levina. "At least you are smiling again," she said with a twinkle in her eye. Jeri realized she was.

"If you were a guy? Jeri what am I hearing here? Should we start getting worried about you?" Jeri looked less pleased when she heard the familiar voice beside her. She did not want to look sideways at the man that seated himself next to her, uninvited. Hazer never asked if the seat was taken. He plainly sat himself down, his right as a costumer she supposed, yet he could have considered the conversation Jeri was having and not disturb her.

"A drink mister Hazer?"Levina inquired subtle and leaned a little bit more forward, giving a perfect view of her pretty round shapes. She smiled as she looked at Jeri, noticing the distasteful look on Jeri's face when she saw Hazer. The head jailor cleared his throat. "Same as before, pretty lady, only then I will be able to subdue my need to run away while Hazer sits next to me," Jeri held her hand up, holding the empty glass as Levina poured her another drink. Jeri decided now she was drunk, she would use the advantage of her alcoholic intoxication, hoping she could block out Hazers annoying voice and mostly his irritating chatter. Gazing at Hazer's toothy grin did not help.

"Say Jeri! What are you doing here anyway? You do not work here...do you?" he inquired boldly. Jeri frowned as she looked pityingly at Hazer."What do you think? Because my sister works here I work here too? Perhaps if you would not have interfered with my conversation- since you only heard half of it – you will recall I'm in business opportunities," she replied with a rather acid filled tone of voice. Levina chuckled lightly. Hazer gave her sour grin. "Charming as ever," he replied. Jeri looked into the face of the dastardly head jailer, not hiding she wasn't exactly thrilled to see him. He did not help improve her mood. Apparently she did improve his.

"What are _**you **_doing here anyway?" Jeri sounded blunt. Hazer was silent for a moment, before coming a bit closer to her and whispering:"I'm her to redeem a voucher," he said. A rather large grin forming on his sleazy face.  
>Oh yes, the voucher, the deal...again...that too seemed to follow her around like a disease. She almost wished she had never made the bloody deal. Jewels had handwritten it herself. Jeri had known that the thing would go to Hazer and that he would not swop it to somebody else.<p>

"Mister Hazer, our receptionist wants to know what your preferences are?" Levina inquired in between the strange conversation Jeri and Hazer seemed to have. Hazer looked at her questionably. The woman put down the voucher in front of him he had exchanged at the reception a while ago. "What exactly do you mean by that?" Hazer looked at her Jeri for help. "The voucher mister Hazer, gives you the right to make a choice for a lady ... or a gentleman. The choices are goblin, human, gnome or dwarf," she told him. Hazer's face instantly seemed to glow. He seemed rather uncomfortable about this sudden question. Something that made Jeri laugh out loud in his face as she pointed a finger in his direction, exaggerating her reaction mostly thanks to the alcohol. He looked confused for a moment, looking at Levina for more explanation. "Do you perhaps require a specific desire in a woman…or a man? Such as fleshy, round, tall, slim, small or curvaceous perhaps?" she described. "Um...," Hazer swallowed noisily.

"You should see your own face right now Hazer! It looks so dumb!" Jeri whistled loudly and hit him rather harshly on his shoulder. He swung forwards, grabbing the bar not to fall of his stool. "I didn't know you were so prudish Hazer," she chuckled again. Hazer did not look very pleased. "You look like you're gong to show us a proper pout any moment! Like a girl," she nearly pissed her pants from laughing at him. "Yeah, you can stop laughing now, I think the whole of bleeding Ratchet heard you by now," he muttered, almost sorry he ever considered sitting next to her.

Hazer looked at Jeri, who finally stopped laughing. "Owww…you've got feelings too don't you? And I just trampled over them, didn't I? I'm sooo amazing," she grinned wickedly. Hazer gasped at her. Jeri was shaking her head, trying to come up with a legal way to apologize to him for her rude behavior but could not think of one. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…my head is a bit blurry…you see I'm…sliiiiightly…tipsy," she finally said. Hazer did not look at her. Here he was perhaps not the big horrible jailor he was in prison, but he had feelings as well. "Yeah yeah, I know you're drunk Jeri, and that tells me enough," he said. She flushed her eyelashes at him which rewarded her with a snort.

"Oke 'handsome', I'll stop laughing…honestly," she promised him solemnly. He gave her a strange look. "Perhaps while you think about a witty answer to say to me instead of the horrible lurking you always do, you can also make up your mind about that choice you have? Hmm? The pretty lady over there is waiting for an answer. Or is it hard for you to multitask?" she said bluntly, pointed at Levina, who did a very good job in remaining neutral.

"Oh yes…uhm ... r-round ... and a little bit fleshy perhaps?" she heard him gently say, no idea what to think. "Excellent choice," Levina said, as if he just chose a refined wine instead of a girl. "I will pass on to the reception that madame Larisa Nour will come and get you as soon as she is available," Levina said with one of her enchanting smiles. He looked crestfallen when she walked away. "You really have no idea what you just chose did you?"Jeri looked rather smug with that statement. He looked away from her. "Awww…common Hazer! I did not mean to be rude! Who did she say again?" she wanted to know. "A madame Larisa Nour," he said, not so sure on his choice. Jeri chuckled thoughtfully. She was silent for a moment. She could not bring a face to the name instantly. It sounded like a gnome. She even though she met the woman once.

"Oooww _that_madame Larisa Nour!" she suddenly cried out, as if she had made the discovery of the century. "Now that is a really really…ehm…interesting madame. A very nice lady with pink hair Hazer! She does _special_ things. That is really a good choice!" she said enthusiastically, recalling the gnome again. "Really?" Hazer only believed her half. Jeri nodded. "And how do you know all this information?" he said suspiciously. Jeri shrugged and looked at him cross-eyed with a half-drunken grin. "Duuuh…I have a sister working here…, inside information! I have my sources…not only my sister," she said and grinned.

"I bet you do," Hazer said not exited and feeling far from comfortable. Especially now that he did not know whether Jeri fooled with him or not. He grabbed one of the magazines and flipped through it. She observed him while he tried to read the magazine with all sorts of erotic stories, giving an approving grin as he went to another page. The front of the magazine he held up portrait a lady goblin in only her underwear and a pair of sexy leather boots while resting in a rather strange pose on a motorized vehicle.

"Nice boots, ugly woman," Jeri proclaimed without disguising her annoyance about the magazines again. Hazer looked at her. "Do you mind? I'm reading here Jeri?" he said. She shook her head. "I do, because you were having a conversation with me!" she said and pulled the magazine from his hands. "Besides who wants to read something idiotic stuff like that, when they can have a conversation with me?" she mentioned, pointing at herself with a giggle.

"The real story behind miss warm weather! The bare facts by Quicky McFingers," Jeri read aloud. Hazer ripped the magazine from her fingers and held it in front of his face. Blocking her view. "Aawww common Hazer!" she whimpered in a sad tone. He snorted again. "Quickie McFingers? Who calls himself Quickie ... McFingers, "she shrieked in a girlish way, not trying to hide the upcoming laughter. With a flat hand striking the bar with a loud bang because she found it sounded so amusing. "That is surely the most original name I've ever heard ... NOT!" Jeri cried out in sheer amused of hearing herself giggle again. Damned, that alcohol sure was doing a very good job she realized, she was having so much fun tormenting Hazer.

Hazer looked his over his magazine to Jeri, not entirely sure of what he had to say to her since she made fun out of anything he said. "Does Jatfast know you're here?" he asked eventually. Jeri shook her head. "Jatfast is too busy with his beautiful new neighbor…the lovely stupid elf with the looooong pretty auburn hair and the round round round round boobs…. so I do not know," she said, pulling an angry face and making a rude gesture. He dropped his magazine.

"The blood elf?" he looked surprised. "Yes, the ugliest woman ever! Seems she was the cause of my fine fellow spending a few days in your rotten prison she felt the need to cause that incident in the tavern. And what do you think….I walk into Greymurs house and there she was! Miss looking good, sitting at my spot at my friends table! What was she thinking?" Jeri grumbled, again making herself angry about the situation. "Jatfast was in the same prison row as that woman he told me, you put them there! Gazlowe let her be moved from the prison after that angry blonde came to make a huge fuss at the prison. She said she only knew Greymur from the evening he introduced himself after Hurias made fool of himself. I'm sure Asalt had something to do with her being there. Seems Gazlowe asked him for a special job concerning the lady," he said with an al knowing grin. Jeri looked at him in a daze.

"Why the hell would Greymur be asked to do that? He does not even know her!" Jeri whined. "**I can tell you that ugly bitch suddenly sat at Greymur as if she was the newest addition to **_**my group **_**of friends**," he heard Jeri say as her voice angered. She was clearly not done with the whole situation yet. "She's at Greymurs huh? ... good choice Gazlowe," Hazer thought out loud with a sly grin. Jeri looked at him viciously when she heard him say that.

"Oh great, you knew about it too? Was there anybody in Ratchet that did not know?" she asked. She felt offended and left out. "No it wasn't like that Jeri, you have to understand. It was a bit more complicated than that," he tried to say. She cut him off with another rude gesture. "**Complicated my arse! ****I've had it with complicated**!" she yelled.

"Have you seen the elf? The aggressive one?" he asked her, looking seriously now. "No," Jeri answered being all obnoxious about the whole thing. "**More elves? Oh, please. I will punch them all in the face if I have to! Like I did with her**!" she warned, waving around a dangerous fist to prove her point. Hazer shook his head. She did not understand, that was obvious. "Maybe you should just go home Jeri," he suddenly said to her. "Sleep on it for a night, and maybe Jatfast can explain things tomorrow," he advised her. She pulled a pout and looked sad. "Everyone is against me," she said defiantly. Hazer looked really serious now. "No Jeri, I mean well, I'm not against you, ask Gazlowe, he'll explain," he said, wanting to leave it with that. Jeri felt the alcohol was raising her temper in a bad way. She was jumping from one mood to another. "Yeah, well, nobody wanted to tell me why she was there in the first place…so I do not care. For all I care they can steal her!" Jeri said, grabbing the magazine from Hazer's hands again and rolled it up.

"Mister Hazer? The madame is ready to receive you," Levina said. Hazer looked up in curiosity. A small gnome female walked in, planting her hands on her hips. The madame had pink hair that was braided in a complicated sort of tower on her head. The candy pink corset she wore fitted her short stature and matched her hair.

"Mister Hazer?" she said with a subtle smile and watched the goblin tightly. "Uh ... yes, that's me!" he said and tried to look imposing instead of overwhelmed. Madame Larisa Nour had a heart shaped face with big beautiful blue eyes, a small fine mouth with dark lipstick. She looked at the man from head to toe while he felt awkwardly. "I heard you were head jailer in our beautiful city," she said and looked at him. "Um ... yes, yes that's right," he said slowly. "Hmm ...," she answered in a way that made him more nervous when he looked at her smile. "I think we will have a lot of 'fun' doing things that has to do with jailors and criminals the next few hours ... I do so like that game ...," she remarked laughing. To Hazer the room seemed to turn a few hundred degrees in warmth when she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him from his seat.

"Come on sir prison warden, I suppose you want the next couple of hours well spent," she said with a wink. Madame Larisa Nour gave him a firm slap on his butt while she escorted him towards the large staircase that lead to upstairs. "Now there's a sight I won't lose for decades," Jeri moaned. Levina grinned. "Another drink perhaps?" she asked instead. Jeri shook her head. "I think I had quite enough. Maybe I should go home and sleep on it," she said and stood up.

"I will tell Jewels you were here but decided to go home instead," Levina promised. Jeri gave her a grateful look.

When she stepped outside, she realized she was still holding the magazine she practically stole from Hazer. She grinned as she looked at the rolled up magazine in her hand, using it to slap her own tight with, crying out: "Oooohhh ... madame Larisa ... not so hard!" She laughed out loud, smirking satisfied about herself. Hazer had no idea what was coming to him.

With the magazine rolled up under her arm she strolled off toward her house., having trouble keeping herself straight thanks to the amount of alcohol she had consumed.

* * *

><p>The man gasped, his breathing erratic and difficult. His hands whiter than usual. His fingers trembled as he touches the brick wall of the building he had chosen to rest aside at for a moment. His problem was catching up on him, eating away his last energy before he had to renew it. Past few hours he had seen several patrols passing the building while he pressed himself to the dark shadow of the building. They never noticed him. Pesky goblins!<p>

They were all liars these pesky goblins. Not only when they told him she was not there, but also the one who told him he would hand her over in an easy way. He paid the man enough for the effort. If it was about money then goblins knew their price. But the small pesky goblin did not deliver her to him, instead he had to tell him she was gone, and he had not authority there.

He pushed against the side of the wall that concealed him. The Bruisers passing him weren't the same as that had chased him. It appeared they had given up on him. He smirk lightly, wondering how their big boss would react.

The two Bruisers that had followed him earlier did never caught him. His rain of fire had delayed them enough to work in his advantage. He made himself scarce the moment the mind control broke and kept running, not looking back. He had heard their screams when they were running after him, threatening they would catch him, but he outwitted them. Moving into the area where the raptors lived close to Ratchet they stopped following him. He had taken a long detour to get back into Ratchet again, stealing a cloak from a washing line that hung laundry out to dry. Leaving his well carved staff behind not to be recognized. Bleu wasn't exactly his color.

He hid in the crowded tavern for a long time. There were more elves so he was safe. He looked tired at his ghostly white hands, they almost seemed like claws now. He growled, a gurgling sound from deep within his throat.

Gazlowe had lied to him! She was here. He had seen her himself!

He knew very sure this time. He had seen her, first at the tavern and later, when he was deeply hidden in his cloak and moving among the crowd of the market, near the wharf. He had seen the orc carry her for some strange reason. Attracting too much attention to see a chance to make sure she knew he was a flash he had recognized her. Mostly because of her long auburn hair! It had to be her!

He was glad his mother was not here to see his failures so far. She would have beaten him to his senses. If his brother would not have done that for her. His brother loved brute force. Like his mother loved her secrecy. But he was not completely useless. She knew that, otherwise she would not have sent him. Though he had to prove himself. Over and over, to show he was true to his word.

Now he knew she was here he had to act fast.

Cursing the three stupid idiots he hired who had brought him the wrong woman. By the time they brought him the woman they had already given her all of the precious elixir. They had managed to get her upstairs and tie her to a chair in the room they had rented in the tavern. She was still whining, quite loudly. Too loudly. And that idiot of a human hunter wanted to slap in her the face to keep her shut. He was so glad he sent them downstairs to do the job himself. He did his job undisturbed and quickly. Making sure he got any information from the woman, she held little useful to him in the end. To his surprise he did discovered she held a small amount of mana. Enough to help him burn down his craving. Keeping him on the edge while he siphoned it away from her. After that he feasted on what was left of her energy and drained her from that as well. It left her in shock, as the elixir numbed her limbs and her heart finally stopped beaten.

She resembled Riselle a little bit, long brown hair, same height, but she was human. Not an elf. He sighed for the stupidity of some petty thieves. Brains must have been scares when they were born.

They literary delivered him what he had requested. A small slender woman with long brown hair ... of the wrong race. He should have made clear he was looking for an elf woman, not a human. And to think she had probably been right within his grasp. How could he have been so stupid! He wasn't worried about the woman. Nobody survived that large quantity of the elixir they had given her. He was sure of that. When his accomplices had come back inside, she was already half comatose. The rogue had stabbed her a few times, wanting to make sure she would not live to tell the tale. He left her body for them to get rid of. Which they did, and got caught doing something idiotic. By that time he had already gone, leaving them to venture for themselves, never receiving the other half of the small fortune he had bribed them with.

He shook his head and growled again, low and menacing. Panting to regain his breath. The shadows were growing longer, calling in the end of the day. But it would still take a couple of hours before darkness would fall. He would use it to his advantage and escape this hole for the time being.

But before he could leave he had to siphon some form of magic ... he had to give into his craving to keep himself from loosing himself. To keep him on edge. He was able to think best if he was on edge…never enough, and always craving for more.

After his adventure in Ratchet his brother would surely not be happy to see him return. For once his mother might. She had her end of the deal to answer for. Faint smirk played around his thin lips. Mother, he thought, going through such length to get what you want. He hoped it was worth it. After all, he only agreed to this because she promised him the impossible. In his heart he hoped her secret circle was able to live up to the promise she had made him. If not, he would make his end of the deal her end.

He took a deep rasping breath, keeping himself under control from gurgling out in dismay of the pain that constantly caused him more pain no matter if he moved or not. All his limbs felt tired. If he would not help himself he would not make it home.

And he had do see the alchemist. The man would provide him with the crystals he yearned for. His mother would surely have some leftovers of her rituals that could help him regain some strength. Lohurin would be too busy when he returned, not even realizing he was out here cleaning up his mess. Lohurin never helped him. Lohurin was waited on as if he was the bleeding Regent-Lord himself. His mother made sure of that. Ever since he gained the title of Champion Lohurin had been worse than ever.

Meanwhile he was sent out to clean up after his older brother. Such a messy boy his older brother. He made a 'tssk' sound when he shook his head in vain.

The elf looked to the sky that slowly changed colors. He felt his long blond hair unpleasantly stick to his face and scalp from the sweat. He felt another chill take over his body. He breathed deeply, oppressing the pain in his chest. Tonight Ratchet would not miss one or two of its many visitors. He would not kill them, only drain them. Siphoning away their energy to a minimum to survive, or steal their mana if they had any. And he would be long gone before they would find the victims. Yes, that sounded good enough. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping that the night would come soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Catching a scent**

Riselles face still looked a little swollen after their return from the healers post. Jeri had an infamous left fist Greymur could vouch for. She seemed to do better now the healer managed to mend most of the damage. At least the bleeding stopped and the swelling was going down now her nose was in the right place again. She sat at his kitchen table looking sore.

"It looks…quite amazing now the bruise seems to be slinking," he noted in a dry tone when she looked at him. One of her eyes had been so swollen the eye had turned a nice black and blue from the impact Jeri's fist left behind. Her nose had been crooked, but the healer fixes it. The herbal ointment she had been given soothed the skin to normal again as long as she smeared it out over her face. She looked faint blue when she used it, probably because one of the main ingredients was a blue flower. He grinned. "She could have done worse I guess," he said. Riselle did not seem to be so amused. "The healer could at least have healed it a little longer," Hurias said a little bit annoyed. Greymur agreed. He almost forget about his blonde friend being present with all the fuss going on.

Hurias had kept to the background. The orc had barely heard him speak one word since he came to tell he got fired thanks to Wiley. When he discovered Riselle he spontaneously fell over his own words. It seemed her presence made him nervous. Even after a day he still struggled, constantly turning red in his face. Greymur almost fell sorry for the youngman. And with everything that had occurred so far Hurias had been quiet, perhaps for the better. What had struck the orc most was that Hurias suddenly seemed to doubt himself the way when he met the youngman on his first working day in the mines.

It wasn't like Hurias avoid asking what was going on, for some reason he did ask the orc about it. That Hurias mainly felt uncomfortable in her presence went without proof. No doubt Riselle saw him struggle as he stuttered a few words, eventually deciding to not speak at al. As if spooked with every move she made. But now he found the sound of his voice again. "In Silvermoon," he said, trying to sound wise," the healers would have approached her differently, most certainly not letting her go until her nose was normal again." Hurias did not think the uptight goblin healer at the healers post did a very good job. "We're not in Silvermoon Hurias. The rest will need to heal on its own," Greymur said, shrugging when Hurias said Silvermoon had better healers then Ratchet from what he seen. Here they weren't in Silvermoon, here they were in Ratchet and had to make do with whatever Ratchet had to offer. The orc hunter knew Silvermoon only from stories and he did not feel like getting the discussion on the healer started again. "It does not matter, it happened and we cannot change it anymore, she healed what she could, the rest needs to heal," he decided, leaving it behind him as he simply put it. Riselle agreed with him.

"Riselle," Greymur suddenly realized something. "Since we are in a rather complicated situation," he said sounding doubtful, and that was an understatement, "and we still have a lot to sort out and arrange, it might be wise if you know where the boundary lines of Ratchet are. For the sake of Zanak's terrible invention and that thing going off without warning I would rather make sure you know how far you can walk. Just in case it does explode make sure you aim for Zanak's workplace," he said cynically, and pointed to the alarm-o-bot that had quietly stood beside her chair all the time. The silly toy looking robot only moved when Riselle moved. Greymur had little patience with the small thing. Even less with the technology. He was useful in his own ways, he did not need technology for that. So he was still in doubt if any of the technical things made in Ratchet were useful and smart or just plainly stupid.

"Hurias, you might want to show Riselle Ratchet and walk about those small stones they use to show the boundary," he subtly said. Hurias turned red in his face as it dawned on him what Greymur had just said."M-me?" he stammered uncomfortably. Yes, that was exactly the suggested Greymur had made to him.

The orc needed some time for himself to think. Although he was more concerned with the problem Jeri, he had no time for her right now."The fact you were fired does not safe you from any chores if you think you can sit around my house being lazy. You're not off duty. Make yourself useful, from one elf to another," the orc told him with a sly grin. The elf nodded stupidly and stood up, looking rather difficult towards Riselle. She smiled at him, he smiled back shyly.

Rena pushed her big black nose against Greymur's hand, her tail gently swirling back and forth while she gave a short bark. Greymur brought his head close to Rena's ears, whispering something in it. The wolf gave a short growling answer, as if she repeated his orders, while all he said to her was to go with them. She received an appreciative pat on her side.  
>"Go ahead, take the monster with you. No snacks for the snack diva!" he warned her, with a keen eye looking at the big wolf. She put her head on his lap and looked at him obliquely. Sad as to hear he didn't trust her with any snacks. "You will listening to Hurias young lady, you understand?" Riselle chuckled when she saw Rena bark.<p>

Greymur saw them go, glad he had a moment to himself. With Rena there, he did not have to worry about them he hoped.

Hurias felt rather uncomfortable, but the shimmering evening would work to his advantage. She would not be able to see his constant blushing if she came to close. With the alarm-o-bot under her arm, she walked with him as he walked a reasonable pace. Not to be too close around her. "Shall I ... uh ... shall I show you the border stones first, very important to know," he said, repeating Greymur, hoping she would not notice his discomfort. "Gladly," her voice was cheerful.

"Ratchet has its boundaries marked with a stone system." He said, walking ahead of her. "The stones are a bright color with a rune marking so it will be obvious to visitors or travelers when they are no longer insured of the protection and safety of Ratchet," Hurias told her, looking over his shoulder at her for a moment. "Sounds like a well thought out system," she remarked. Hurias nodded. "Yes, it marks where the safety is no longer guaranteed for those who seek fortune outside the barriers of Ratchet. Gazlowe explained it as a necessity because people kept filing claims to Ratchet when they were attacked by bandits and raptors. This way he is covered, as Jatfast calls it. Always know where you can get attacked boy!" Hurias explained, doing a Jatfast impression with a raised finger pointing to one of the stones. "If you get attacked beyond those marked stones, nobody will come to your aid," he said, shaking his finger firmly. Riselle smirked and Hurias was glowing a little bit with pride when she laughed about his jokes.

"It sounds a little bit like the rune stones in Eversong Woods, though the system is different," she said when he showed her the first marked stone. It was a yellow stone put up straight and it held a runic marking in bright blue on top. She could not read it, but she was sure it held a warning. Hurias raised an eyebrow. "Rune stones? I remember those," he said, rather curious she brought it up. He never knew what they were for. Mostly because it was never important for him to know. Yet he dared not ask what they were for when she mentioned them.

"Have you never noticed that Eversong Woods is shrouded in a constant fall?" she asked him. He had not been in Silvermoon for a long time, but that he could remember the warm everlasting autumn very well. "After they rebuild Silvermoon they placed a number of rune stones which had to ensure that corruption would not spread upon the healed lands. Near the borders of Ghostlands you will find one that does not work anymore. Unfortunately the contamination of the corruption can be seen in the near surroundings of the rune stone. I guess those who tent to keep the magic of the rune stones working could not fix it," she said. Hurias nodded, feeling rather clumsy he did not know things like this.

"If you go to Silvermoons library you will find more than one book about the corruption of the Blackened Woods," she said kindly. Hurias felt silly. He never spent far outside Silvermoon and had mainly dealt with the constructive tasks that were expected in his profession. He was hired to help rebuild the city to its former glory. As an apprentice to one of the builders. His tasks did not interfere with the magical side of the story. And only the higher in rank and position often had the time to delve in books and read up on history. "You've been gone from Silvermoon for a long time haven't you?" she guessed. He nodded. "Long enough," he answered her. "Was it by choice or were you 'advised' to move elsewhere?" He noted the hint of curiosity in the way she asked him.

It made him feel shy again to think she showed interest. But it made him less nervous now he had more than one things to talk about with Riselle. "I ... I had my reasons," he said, not wanting to point out the exact reason. She simply nodded understandingly, that sounded familiar. He expected her to laugh for some reason, but she did not. She left him to decide whether he would tell her or not. Nor did she urge him to continue about his departure from Silvermoon. It gave him a little more confidence.  
>"And you? A woman like you usually does not walk around without an escort I would presume? Or at least not when she is of good family?" he guessed. He still remembered her from the first night she was in the tavern. Her grace caught him, telling him she was no low bred person but probably of a good family name. He had stared and Jeri, Greymur and Jatfast teased him for it.<p>

"I'm not of nobility if that is what you think," she tried to smile when he almost dissapointed. He could cross 'average' of his list, but he couldn't add royal to it. It would have sounded better if he could have made a new remark to Jeri about Riselle now. Even though he bravely used 'average' to described her and stand up to Jeri when she demanded sides that evening. When he said that it really went against his own feelings, for she was anything but average in his eyes. When he looked at her now he was sure he would never use that words again to describe her if anybody would ask him.

Beside him stood this beautiful young woman, and he did not know how to behave in her presence, let alone what to say, but she was an intriguing young woman.

He had once felt this uncomfortable before in a situation he would rather not be reminded of. It was the woman that clearly showed interest in him while he was working that made him worry. She had come to watch him every day with her two friends, to 'view' his actions as he worked. It did not matter if he worked a sweat while cultivate one of the buildings in Silvermoon or if he just came off duty, she was always there. With or without her friends, she seemed to take a look at him everytime he was working.

Among his coworkers there was great amusement when she had a letter delivered to him, holding a proper invitation to meet her at a certain time and place after work. He was, after several nights of hot fun and the feeling he was very much in love with her, introduced to her very angry father. Who hunted him through the streets of Silvermoon for everybody to see. The humiliation complete when her friends applauded him the next day, telling him he did a marvelous job being her pet.

When she and her friends came to laugh about his misfortune and told him all she had done was toying around with his feelings to see how far he would go he collapsed. She was his superior in rank and position and they made that very clear to him when they called him her pet. They praised her for her joke. She trampled his feelings.

After that he never accepted an invitation given to him by any woman anymore. Too scared to get hurt again. Being a sensitive youngman did not help in Silvermoon.

It took him a long time before he could leave the feeling behind him and accept it was the way it was. It made him skeptical towards all women. Besides some quick and short romances and sometimes a passionate nights things remained silent when it came to love for Hurias. For some reason Riselle made him feel like the woman had made him feel before he knew she played a trick on him. His stomach seemed to rumble, but not for need of food. He could not seem to concentrate properly with her around.

He bit his lip when she was silent. Did he cross her line by asking the question of why she had left Silvermoon herself?

"Personal reasons, like you," she finally said. "But come, let us not dwell on Silvermoon, tell me of this wonderful harbor," she sounded excited, leaving the uncomfortable topic behind them in a safe way for both of them. He smiled, silently thanking her for that. "What would you like to know?" he said, suddenly feeling more at ease as he took up his role of tour guide. "Everything! I heard Ratchet has some great entertainment during the night, and some fascinating street musicians," she said.  
>"Considering Greymur looked busy, I do not think he will mind if you tour me through Ratchet a bit more than just showing me the barriers of the city. Perhaps you could show me around the market? Or we could pass those strange boutiques in the harbor?" He listened to her clear voice filled with enthusiasm when she mentioned a few other places she would like to visit.<p>

She wanted a tour of Ratchet? He could definitely give her that. He would do that with great pleasure. Together with Riselle he made an imaginary list of the places she named, sorting what they could see tonight and promising her he would tour her around another day if she was up for that.

Rena barked enthusiastically when they walked towards the wharf, as the market was there as well. There where also the people selling the snacks!

* * *

><p>The woman stumbled over the fishing nets laid in a pile next to a wooden barrel before she collapsed to the side. Her mouth still wide open to call for help, the only sound that came out was a dry moan. He simply smiled.<p>

The head of the woman lolled forward. He knelt before her, supporting her chin in one of his ghostly white hands. The eyes of the woman rolled up and down in her sockets, until she found a clear moment, focusing her gaze on him as if he would help her. His interest was to see if she would survive, now that he had drained her from both her mana as well as her energy. When he siphoned he always wondered if anybody was strong enough to survive. And he had literary stolen everything she had.

Fully charging himself with her renewed energy, feeling the thrill as her magic tickled through him and calmed his weary limbs before they would start trembling again. He could taste the almost raw untouched part of mana the woman had rarely used. If she would have been a magic user it would have felt different. Untrained people often held small amounts of mana they never used. This woman was no different.

The woman produced a final guttural rattle before her eyes rolled up. When he no longer felt a pulse, he concluded that she had not survived. Shaking his head, he uncorked a bottle containing a syrup like substance that smelled as if it contained a large amount of alcoholic, mixed with different herbs. Holding the bottle to her mouth he let the syrup slowly drip into her mouth. It ran down the sides of her mouth as she no longer swallowed. With a grin he let go of the head of the woman, leaving the syrupy goo run down her mouth chin into her clothes. A sticky mess. It did not matter anymore.

"Disgusting woman," he laughed harsh at her when he picked her up and dumped her in the barrel. Dropping the bottle of remaining liquid into her lap. They would never think she had died because somebody stole every last drop of energy from her... but most likely from a very nasty overdose of the easily available alcohol-containing herb mixture from the market. Adding a bit of his own magical poisons to it made it a lethal mixture that was bound to kill her in the end. He neatly deposited the fishing nets on top of the barrel. It could take days, or hours perhaps, depending on who would be looking for her, before she would be located. By that time he was long gone.

His body screamed for more magic. He had a morbid dislike for the low gurgling sounds he produced ever since he knew that his problem had increased ...

Pulling up the hood of the blue stolen cloak over his head made him realize the thing smelled musty. He disliked the smell already thanks to his renewed energy, which made his smell better. If he would arrive home he would burn the cloak. Right now he wanted to take a last look around. When it seemed safe to walk away from the street where he had stolen the woman of her magic and life energy, he had to dodge again.

There was a man standing a little up the road, one of those small irritating goblin men. Even though Gazlowe had promised him enprisonement if he was caught in Ratchet, it did not mean he could not hide himself and operate at night. There were so many people in Ratchet they would hardly notice him if he hide well enough. One reason to steal a cloak.

He did not recognize the man at first until the little bugger turned around. The man wore strange half goggles on his nose. The lying scheming little green bastard, his wretched mood took the upper hand, giving him trouble not to give into the aggressive part of it. With his hand in front of his own mouth he called the small goblin man with the half goggles every horrible name he could come up with inside his head. If he would get his hands on him he would make him bleed for is treasury. His promise had been a false one. It left him with more trouble. Lucky for him he only paid the man a small sum of money. Not the small fortune he offered the three idiots that screwed up their task.

If he would cast a curse on him people would know, no matter how convenient the man stood there on his own. It seemed he was waiting for something. He'd better move, or he might change his mind after all. Until he greeted two persons with a stern hello…and right there…right in front of his nose…there she was….

He gasped, suppressing a gurgling roar that came from deep down his throat. The spittle that he produces was glowing a faint green when he spat on the ground. It didn't bother him enough to look at it. Instead he gazed at the woman with the long auburn hair. She was with an elf. The man with the half goggles seemed to lecture them on something, as they looked like two children getting scolded by their father. He showed a wry grin when he observed her. She would look that way if mother had her way…

The blond haired young man next to her only nodded at the right moment. Smart boy for pretending to accept the lecture he thought. Yet he loathed the moment he saw her with him. It made him realize the elf was a healthy elf. An unfair feeling crept up, making him furious. She should not walk around like that…not with such a youth that wasn't man enough to be called a man yet. If only the stupid goblin would hurry up his rant. What was it with goblins, they were short, explosive and annoying to be around, yet they never seized to keep it short when talking. Always full of themselves it seemed. He snorted softly, rubbing his aching nose that seemed to catch the smells that came his way so vividly.

The goblin man with his strange half goggles finally made his way up the road as he left the two elves standing there for a moment. There was silence as they looked at each other. After that they burst out in laughter, like two school children. A moment of loud and careless merit. He growled, trying to cough up the dry feeling in his throat. Angry about what he saw. She seemed to walk carefree, no hint on her face she was feared or worried.

He saw them leave, Riselle alongside the blond haired youngster in the direction of the market. He pondered for a short moment, then decided the market was crowded enough to follow them around for a bit, to see where they would go. Pulling his hood lower over his face he walked like an old man, leaning forward and slow as he moved.

"Here you can find mostly anything," the man heard Hurias say in an enthusiastic voice. Riselle answered she used to visit the market at home. He remembered that. The stupid younger elf seemed to be smitten with her, as he instantly obliged to her request of visiting this market as well. More to his relief, that way he could follow them a little longer. What he mostly had to do right now was make sure that they would not catch him. Or his plan would all be in vain.

Ratchets market was much larger than that of Silvermoon. Different in many ways. It covered a wide space that held rows of market stalls with colorful striped coverings. There was noise and music on every corner. Vendors shouting out their wares to by passers. Everybody praised their merchandise to be the best. One stall had an all exotic animals in cages on displayed. Riselle stared curiously at a couple of blue rats while the owner told 'they were really born with that color miss' which she did not believe. While exotic dancers tried to lure potential customers in for some entertainment in one of the brothels near the wharf. Other vendors tried a more aggressive approach by simply pulling in customers, blocking their way out of the shop to see their wares and make sure they would buy something. Hurias warned her to stay close to him just in case.

There were stalls selling clothes and jewelry, a lot she noticed. From simple beads to diamonds and roughly cut gems in enchanted display cases. Hurias told her that was used so the gems would not be stolen. Riselle walked skim racks of deals to see what they had to offer. She enjoyed the weird smells of perfume, cologne and the mixture of herbal essences they used in products they called oversea tea, wondrous healing plasters, trinkets, shampoo. They all claimed their product did wonders.

Other merchants were trying to have people buy their sweets, snacks and drinks, free samples to taste if you bought a bag of candy. A mishmash from all layers of the world population of Azeroth appeared to gather around the busy market of Ratchet. A man yelled the display of the slaves would start and that people should hurry to get the best spot. People jumped up, started to move to get out of the market area. That wasn't something Riselle wanted to see, it seemed Hurias had no need for a display like that either. As the crowd moved they could scarcely move. Hurias grabbed her hand when she fell behind. Instantly feeling his cheeks burn with a bright pink color that did not suit him. She did not seem to notice, but was glad for the hand that kept her close to him.

"Let's get out of this crowd, before we end up there with the stream," he suggested, she nodded. "I'd love to see some of Ratchets blacksmiths if they have any, to see what they make," she said. Hurias understood. "Mail or plate?" She smiled. "Plate," she said, though it was hard to imagine the armor she had been wearing could be seen as plate. "Do they sell second hand as well?" Hurias shrugged, he didn't know. He didn't wear plate, never touched a plate item in his life. But they would find out for her. For him it did not matter where they went, as long as he was able to impress her a little.

The market knew of many suppliers of mail and plate. As well as cloth and leather, they seemed equally popular. "Greymur always sells his leather here," Hurias said when they finally made it through the area with the least interesting offers. Riselle looked at him, she did not know that. "He is a hunter, but you probably already noticed that because of Rena," Hurias pointed at the she-wolf beside him. His hand lightly resting on her head. If you did not know Rena was Greymurs hunter pet, you could easily think Hurias was a hunter walking around with his wolf. She had seen more hunters walk around like that, but no elves among them.

"Do you have a profession?" she asked. He shook his head. "I worked in the mines outside Ratchet, but I got fired," he said, which he regretted. "It would suit you too," she told him. He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" was she telling him he looked like a hunter?

"You seem to work well with her, in an easy way from the looks of it," Riselle pointed at Rena. He patted Rena on her head. He did not know if their relationship was mostly based on the snacks he treated her with, or because she really accepted the elf as one of her party. The she-wolf followed him around because Greymur had told her to listen to him. Not that he could make her do what Greymur did as a hunter, but she would do what was needed. It wasn't the first time Greymur sent Rena with him. Hurias could imitate any whistle Greymur used for the wolf. As well as some of his signs for her, but he could never match the bond they had. Rena usually kept out a watchful eye for him. If Greymur told her so. She was good at that.

Even so Rena accepted the treats she was given with pleasure. She was chewing on a rather hard piece of dried meat he had just given her. Swallowing it after it was munched, sniffing Hurias his hands for more. "Rena is a snack diva," Hurias said. That Riselle already knew. "I can't refuse her when she stares at me like that, she always seems to be hungry," Hurias said with a smile. "But don't let Greymur catch you overfeeding her snacks, or he'll break you in half," he informed her in a conspiracy kind of way. Riselle chuckled. "Like you're doing now you mean?" Hurias blushed slightly when she pointed it out. Greymur warned him earlier not to overfeed his wolf with snacks. Rena barked happily at him. Her face looked adorable when she tilter her head a bit, giving that questionable look as if she had no clue they were talking of snacks. He smirked at her and shook his head, meaning no more treats.

The farther away they managed to get from the crowd the easier it became to move again. This part of the market was filled with people, though mostly the type that would seek something in a mail and plate range. Riselle saw elves next to humans and orcs, goblins, gnomes, dwarves, and even the occasional troll. All of them had their own scent and they were all clad in mail or plate, making them look like strange bunch as they huddles together in front of a stall that sold many different types of swords. She enjoyed watching, until that cold shiver ran down her spine. Something familiar when she turned skittish. The elf woman stopped in her tracks. Rena's nose pushed against her hand before she realized that the wolf had felt it too. Rena's yellow eyes gazed around, then resting on Riselle features. What did Greymur tell her, Riselle wished she could read the wolves thoughts as she stared up at her like that.

With her nose in the air Rena sniffed it out…the familiar creepy scent that gave Riselle the shivers. She knew the moment she saw the wolf change from her calm self into a rather watchful wolf. Bearing her teeth as she growled, seemingly displeased after picking up the scent. Hurias felt the hairs at the back of Rena's neck stand up when he tried to ease her. The wolf scanned the area, letting her yellow eyes go from person to person. When she lost the scent she calmed down again.

Hurias hesitated for a moment, sharing his thoughtful expression with Riselle. None of them saying anything about it to the other. "Armor, it's this way," he pointed out instead and took a left in the crowd. Riselle followed him closely, while Rena closed the line behind her, remaining alert. People made space for the large she-wolf Riselle noticed, not that she behaved aggressively, but she certainly was impressive in size.

Impressive enough to be very dangerous if needed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Feeling**

Two footsteps of two people echoed through the long dim lit corridor that lead down to her underground workspace. Helbrim let his fingers run along the cold uneven stone, a faint smirk on his face. As if he could feel the coolness though his dead bones. Perhaps he could have when he was still alive, but that was log long ago.

Even from up the stairs you could feel the difference. Earlier that morning Adinna had checked if nothing was frozen over night. Everything seemed to be intact for the arrival of Helbrim. Even though she wasn't extremely fond of the forsaken man, he was going to help her confirm something she had not enough expertise in.

"Hmmm ... I love how they managed to use the rock and the coldness of that remanufactured equipment to create this cold atmosphere," she heard Helbrim say appreciatively while he seemed to absorb the cool air that drifted up the stairs. "We had no more trouble with the machine after your elixir," she told him. Helbrim had a hand in this as well, it was his adapted frost elixir that made it eventually possible to complete everything. "I wish they would consider carving me an underground space in the Crossroads," he ventured. "It gives me the feeling my limbs are decaying less rapidly then when I work in that heat oven they stationed me in. You have no idea how many times I had to sew back one of my limbs again," Adinna smiled briefly to that statement. Not sure what to answer him.  
>At the bottom they heard the soft hum of the linked machines. She had not dared to turn the switch off since her she had to postpone her autopsy on the corpse. Unsure of things she had to wait for Helbrim to help her with certain things. The man was keen with experiments, no alchemist in Ratchet could perform. Ratchet didn't really have a steady alchemist.<p>

When they arrived down she offered him a pair of gloves and one of the warm coats she wore during her work. He refused her politely. Assistant Thumbscrew had not dared to change anything ever since she thought the corpse had moved. The position of the woman's body remained unchanged after that. All she had added to her notes was the faint blue glow that suddenly appeared.

The forsaken mumbled some more appreciative things about goblin engineering and their invention lust and that the Crossroads did not have such accommodations, muttering they could learn something from this. Unfortunately the Crossroads would never agree on building him a space such as this simply because they did not have the possibilities for it.

She noticed that the forsaken man really was enjoying the cold environment where she was simply chilled in her thick coat. The space was so cold by now that the floor felt slippery, ice caked to the layer of grey granite stones they used to paved the floor with. The stones never froze her shoes to the floor though. It did not seem to bother Helbrim at all.

"Is that her?" Helbrim walked over to the table that showed the covered contours of a body underneath a white linen sheet. He picked up one end of the linen up between two bony fingers and pulled it up a subtle way to see more.  
>Beneath the cloth a woman was visible, with long dark brown hair that framed her oval face. She did not have the decomposing ash gray color some corpses had when they were already dead. When he pulled up the cloth further, exposing more of her body, he saw an intact skin, no blemishes or bruises, no corps stains.<br>"What a beautiful sight, such a wonderful specimen. And still intact, a perfect skin, no maggot holes ... well, besides for some stab wounds perhaps," he said in a monotone dry way when he saw the wounds. Adinna almost jumped up and down when he confirmed things that she already had described in her report.

"So you needed my help to find out how such a pretty little thing came to die in a town like this?" Helbrim smiled, musing over the woman in front of him. After that he looked at Adinna. Assistant Thumbscrew gritted her teeth. "I know how she died," the goblin female squeaked impatiently. "Do you?" Helbrim cocked his head, making the bones of his neck snap when he did. She shivered at the sound of it.

"I think I know when somebody is dead. What is more interesting... is she really dead or not?"Adinna wanted to know. Helbrim looked her over and grinned slowly. "I do not know that yet, but we will find out won't we Adinna," he told her. "Tell me everything you have on her so far," Helbrim said as she handed him her notes. He read them superficially, muttering in his guttural speech before casting them aside on the second table and turning to Adinna again.  
>"What was the purpose of keeping her intact and not simply cut her open?" was the first thing he asked her. Assistant Thumbscrew hesitated. "Because she moved…," she said. Helbrim raised a finger, as if he wanted to be quiet. "Tell me from the top of your hear what you have on her," he said, his weird grin a little freakish to her. She summed up: the incident at the tavern, found on the bathroom floor next to a feign death hunter, no signs of corpse stiffness, stab wounds with a weapon that was not the two handed sword she had compare it with, the first signs of the faint blue glow and the fact she moved.<p>

"There!" he said, making a gesture with that same finger in the air to make her stop talking. "That faint blue glow and the movement, that stopped you from cutting her open right? Though it would have also provided you with an answer to your questions if you had used a knife on her. It would only have to be a small cut to see if somebody was truly alive. You could have told by the blood." It sounded like a simple solution when he said it. Gazlowe has asked her something similar, why did she not cut open the woman to see for herself if she was doubting?

"I didn't trust my own judgment, I do not cut when it still show signs of life," Adinna admitted scornfully. "There's the difference between us," Helbrim said in his dry tone. Adinna didn't want to know what he meant by that, but the experiments in Undercity weren't exactly something she wished to know about right now. "Are you here to tell me off like one of your students? Or are you here to help me Helbrim?" She planted her hands on her hips as she looked at him in a mocking way. Helbrim chuckled. "I was merely testing your knowledge," he said, the soft cackle that escaped him made her uneasy.

"So I took precaution, so what," she said, feeling she had to defend herself as she pointed at the women on the table again. Helbrim grinned. "You goblins have such a short temper," he chuckled again. Adinna snorted, shaking her head, letting the subject for what it was.

"Can we focus on her again?" she asked. Helbrim nodded, making a gesture with his hand for her to continue. Adinna took a deep breath before she did. "She suddenly started glowing this weird blue color. I have never seen that in a dead person before nor could I identify it from previous cases. I swear I've seen her fingers move when I examined the wounds and matched the possible stab weapon. Seriously Helbrim, I want to be sure about this before I cut her open," she said while looking rather difficult at the apothecary. Helbrim nodded.

"I see your point. I was merely joking when I tested your skills Adinna," he told her. She wasn't so sure about that. She wondered what he would have been like would she have been one of his students. "Precaution is good, as well as second opinions. Two pair of eyes see more than one. Even though mine are borrowed," he chuckled. "You like setting rules don't you Adinna?" he guessed as he eyed her. "Suppose that your corpse is still alive, then you would have a lively corpse on your hands, like me," the dark tone in which he chuckled made her want to reconsider if she really wanted his assistance. She gave him an angry glare. Helbrim stopped grinning when he was done and turned to the woman on the table again.

"We could always use a new forsaken. But," he said, almost somber," She does not appear to be dead according to you findings, so we must do everything to get information from her before her life is really over, " he said with a little too much enthusiasm. Adinna raised an eyebrow. Helbrim gave her glassy stare when she shook her head. "My apologies, I tend to run in some apothecary humor while working. It has been a long time since I've been able to cut in a human subject like this, call it excitement, so you have to understand that this is an exceptional situation for me outside my normal work at the Crossroads. It is so to say a beautiful distraction," he agreed to himself. She just nodded. This was exactly why she was skeptical for working with the man, mostly because he strayed off the case and though his monotone graveyard humor was funny.

Before Gazlowe said yes to her request to ask Helbrim to Ratchet he also expressed the hope that- if the woman would be alive- she might be able to tell them more about the incident. It would save them a whole lot of trouble to start with. And if she was not murdered the whole case would be filed under different circumstances. Gazlowe hoped Helbrim would give them some clarity on the matter. For Gazlowe a 'living dead' was a very good reason to contact apothecary Helbrim and ask for his alchemist skills to solve a few things.

"I already told you everything I had so far," she began, starting to get annoyed as she tried to push the attention back to the woman on the table. Adinna picked up her notes again. "I understand your point, there also seems to be some contradictions to your research," he said, cutting her off.

"Have you tried taking a blood sample?" he asked and turned to Adinna. Assistant Thumbscrew shook her head. "You examine your corpses for blood? Before you cut?" Helbrim grinned again. Adinna frowned. "I never do that sort of check up. If they come here then they are really dead. I cut them open by request, that's what I'm good at, to search somebody's inside for interesting new things that may give new answer on their cause of death," she said, a bit upset by the strange question. "It does not matter. Do you perhaps have a needle?" he inquired. Assistant Thumbscrew let out a disapproving sound. Did she have a needle? Of course she had a needle!

She rummaged through a drawer of a cabinet against the wall and produced a fine thin iron needle she handed to him. "We'll see what happens when we tap some blood," he said. "You really expect that there is blood? On a corpse?" Adinna came up beside him as he nodded. "Ofcourse there is blood. Perhaps not much, but look," Helbrim said, and took the hand of the woman with his bony fingers. It took a while before something happened. He used the needle with a bit more force. The finger flinched, a small response to Adinna's surprise. If she had not paid attention she would not have believed it.

"You see?" he smirked as a slow drop of blood rolled out of the fingertip he held up. "Intriguing," she heard him say as he caught the few more drops that were produces by the needle. The hand flinched again when he stabbed the needle in deeper. "Seems you might have a sleeper on your hands," he said in a satisfied tone.

"A sleeper?" Adinna did not understand him. "Are you familiar with the herbalist catalogue of approved herbs?" he asked her. She shook her head. "Perhaps with the unauthorized catalogue then?" He gave her an unpleasant smile. "You see there is a catalogued version of every approved plants that you are able to use for mixing as an alchemist. Some plants you might know. But there is also the herbs that are categorized under 'fatal' because they are not commonly used in elixirs and potions. Mostly because they can simply kill a person," Helbrim said. Assistant Thumbscrew sucked in her breath when she heard him chuckle lightly.

"You mean as in…poison?" He nodded. "Some plants carry fatal flowers or can be mixed into lethal drinks that will kill." Adinna never knew.

"Mostly any herbalist or preferably rogue will have knowledge of this. Anybody that works with plants. Even scribes will probably carry a copy or know about this," he said. Adinna felt he was going to scold her again.

"Besides the authorized herb catalogue, there will also be a an unauthorized herbs catalogue that holds the knowledge of plants that you aren't allowed to use when you are an alchemist. This was done to prevent any mistakes. There is an agreement somewhere signed by all the Horde leaders that states it is forbidden to sell non authorized elixirs and flasks from the unauthorized catalogue. But ofcourse there have been alchemist that took to experimenting…for their own knowledge," he said, his grin wicked.

"Is that even legal?" she dared to ask. He nodded. "I do not know of any law that states you cannot use them for your own, unless you sell them to the unknown crowd. There was no agreement that did not allow you to study them for your own knowledge. Or experiment, ofcourse only on authorized and approved test subjects like they have in Undercity. The authorized catalogue simply supplies a list of available herbs that will be used to create your average elixirs and potions, such as a normal manapotion. Then there is the prohibited list of those you cannot use for common use. Which makes it a little tricky, since people have been experimented with those lethal plants. Some of the more lethal ones form the basis of a rogues poison," he explained.

"How is that even allowed?" Adinna asked. "They allow it because there are registered poison vendors," he told her. Helbrim smiled at Adinna, she mostly saw his rotten flesh hang from the side of his face. "Ofcourse that does not mean that things cannot go wrong," he said, almost sounding cheerful. "When I starting my apothecary career in Undercity, I have seen and read enough of the experiments we did on test subjects before I was stationed in the blasted heat of the Barrens," he sounded almost thoughtful when he said that.  
>"You see if any test subject is "written off " because they simply do not survive the tests they get exposed to, we are allowed to use them for…other tests. To make sure that every detail is thoroughly written down. And ofcourse we always check them after they die," assistant Thumbscrew stared at him in disgust.<p>

"What, you didn't think we simply experimented on cuddly little rabbits did you?" he laughed out loud now. Adinna wisely kept her mouth shut. "Sometimes you get your hands on marvelous results, knowing they have been tested with certain unauthorized herbs or poisons. The blue glow you see here could be a side effect of at least two plants I know off. And the sleepers effect is known as 'sleeping nightmare' when you are in a state of living but seem dead to the outside world. It means there is not reliable brain activity and no heartbeat. Therefore it is always best to check your subject. You know, before you start removing limbs. Not that some of my fellow staff member felt the need to do so, but it gives so much extra mess when they are still alive and start screaming when you start chopping off legs and arms," he said in a darker tone. Adinna shivered with the detailed image he had just given her.

"... That's horrible," he heard her say. Assistant Thumbscrew shuddered at what he said.  
>"Young lady, that's life. We are despised in this world, like rotten apples, but even so it is good there is knowledge of things like this," he said. "When I was still human I remember we had enough methods and techniques to get things done in an equally gruesome manner. Every life has its pros and cons," he remarked sharply. Adinna Thumbscrew would rather not think about such things. He did not continue frightening her when he saw her face.<p>

"Ofcourse it is good there are restrictions and rules, we would not want the world to think only the Horde is capable of terrible things while the Alliance holds equal abilities to do harm, now do we?" he mentioned instead, letting the subject rest.

"Now pay attention," Helbrim said and subtly poked the top of the shoulder with the needle. It did not take long before the shoulder also flinched. "Very nice," Helbrim said, looking at the response he got from the woman. The sting produced a small drop of blood where he used the needle. He did it again to another finger tip, catching it in a small bottle. "Now let's do some tests to see what we can find here," he sounded like he was enjoying this.

Even though she was taken aback from some of the things he told her, she was still interested when he mentioned he was going to perform the tests on the blood and needed his lab set up. His strange enthusiasm working a little contagious. Not that she was waiting to make her first cut in a living woman, but to test the blood for specific things was something that always fascinated her about alchemy skills. There was so much you could discover which made it interesting to know more about. And she held no knowledge at all she realized.

"What do you hope to find?" she wanted to know, very curious about what tricks he would have up his sleeves. "First to see if we can analyze any specific unauthorized plants that could cause the blue glow. And perhaps provides us with another cause of death to give your dead friend over there. But I'm positive she is a sleeper, leaves you with that lively corpse," he said laughing out loud. Instantly making his jaw dislocate. Grumbling, he gave the bottle of blood to Adinna and grabbed his lower jaw with both hands and pushed it back with a loud crack.

"Unfortunate drawback to undead life, muscles not working properly and bones that are able to dislocate," she heard him say. "As I was saying, with some simple beginners alchemy, my dear Adinna, we'll see what we can find out that might give us better insight. I'm sure Gazlowe won't mind that. Wouldn't you want to know what caused this wonderful subject the way she is now?" It did, Adinna never thought of it that way, but she did want to know.

"Do sleepers ever…wake?" Adinna wished to know. Helbrim nodded. "Depending on the elixir or potion and the quantity of any lethal herb they can wake up. It's the poisons or deadly herbs that create the sleepers state," he mentioned. "Because it slows down everything in the body, mainly the vital organs, the body has no time to rid itself of any inconvenient substance that disables it. Most sleepers that do wake tend to be deranged for the rest of their lives, as brain damage can be a nasty side effect. I would not get my hopes up on any valid information if she would wake up," he said. "It's usually best if they die. If the poison or deadly herb do not do their job properly, you might consider helping a little," he said, pointing at the gap he used to have a beating heart. She understood.

Adinna's eyes sparkled when he finally opened his backpacks. "It might become more interesting to do some tests first wouldn't you agree? Maybe you would like to assist me with setting up my alchemy lab?" He asked politely, given her a half rotten grin.

* * *

><p>"Backache?" Asalt frowned when he saw Hazer stumble into the messy room he called office. Next to Hazers office Asalt held a clean place. It was halfway through the night by now when Asalt and two of his Bruisers had reported to the prison when Hazers junior jailer came to get him for something important. The head jailer muttered some unintelligent things as he tried to stand up straight. The painful look on his face said enough. Hazer seemed to have a little difficulty walking straight ever since he came back from his 'adventurous' hours in the brothel. Madame Larisa Nour had him worked up a sweat. She was really good at 'particular things' ... like Jeri said. His pain was phenomenal.<p>

'Playing Stockades' she had called it. Which left him in the role of criminal prisoner shipped off to the Stockades in Stormwind, and putting _her _in the role of jailer...torturing him in any inconvenient position she could think of. He did not wish to be reminded of the ways she teased him while he was strapped in those uncomfortable poses. She had a given him a whole new look on his own job, mostly on the torture part. One that he did not particularly like. But he would get even at Jeri for that.

"Wrong movement yesterday while lifting something heavy," he lied, making it sound as if nothing had happened. "Ofcourse," the Chief of the Bruisers said with a very thoughtful grin. "You're sure it had nothing to do with my boys seeing you in The Pink Stocking perhaps?" Asalt mentioned. Hazer was on the verge of spitting fire when he looked at Asalt.

The Bruisers hid their grins because Asalt had probably instructed them not to make fun of the head jailor. "Just teasing," Asalt said, holding up his hands in defeat. "But I'm not here for the social talk ofcourse, we're here because your junior jailor came with a chaotic story about that man?" Asalt had not quit understood what the junior jailor, a goblin with a speedy way of talking, had been on about, but it sounded important.

"You mean that idiotic hunter who tried to play feign death when your men came in to investigate the tavern," Hazer said and looked painful. _That man!_

Now Asalt knew exactly knew what the junior jailor meant. Hazer let out a painful moan when he moved forward, trying to grab the keys to the cell doors. "**Wid, you go and fetch him**!" he yelled, throwing the junior jailor the keys. The man nodded, catching the keys from Hazer and running off into the dark. Asalt grinned for a moment, Hazer looked angered by his back pain. "Say Hazer, maybe you should get a massage from one of the girls in The Pink Stocking, instead of playing Stockades," he snickered. Hazers response was grumpy, but unfortunately he could not whack Asalt on top of his head because he was higher in rank. But he wanted too.

"Are you having me followed or something?" he countered instead. Asalt shook his head. That it was common known that Hazer had been seen in The Pink Stocking was common knowledge, though he didn't tell Hazer that. A town like Ratchet loved stories like this. "Anyways," Asalt said, coming back to the real reason why he was here to start with;"Can I use a separate room when he's here? Or should I transfer him to my headquarters for questioning?" he inquired, struggling to keep his grin as he looked at Hazer. "Use the side room," the head jailor grumbled. He had no sympathy for Asalt and his comments.

The junior jailor came back with a man dressed in black leather clothing. His chains rattled with every step he took. He could easily have been a rogue the way he looked, but he was caught on feign death in the bathroom floor of the tavern, lying next to a corpse. From that they concluded that he was probably a hunter.

He looked battered, his skin marked with many scars. Greasy brown hair that hung to his shoulders and a beard you could braid like a proper dwarf beard. A pair of bright blue eyes focus on Hazer when he entered, then on Asalt. The sly grin on his face did not appeal to Asalt. "The Chief of the Bruisers?" the man asked with a hoarse voice. Asalt nodded. "I had hopes to speak with the big boss himself," he dared to say. "The Chief is high enough for the likes of you to talk, scum!" Hazer sneered, pushing his hand into his back to support himself to stand up straight.

The man did not say anything, he only glared at Asalt before he continued. "I want ... I want to make a deal," the man said and looked serious. The goblin had his doubts but would hear him out.  
>"In the chamber," he pointed to the side. His Bruisers took the man from the junior jailor, escorting him away. Asalt looked at the man with a suspicious glance when the hunter laughed again, contrived by his changing responses. He pondered when he followed the rest into the room and closed the door behind him where this would lead to.<p>

* * *

><p>To Riselles regret none of the vendors sold any used or new part of chain and plate armor sets that looked lose to her jade set. She hoped she would be lucky and would find some clue where her armor could have gone. Wherever it had gone, the thief was smart enough to not sell it in Ratchet. When she asked for locations for specific plate like hers she received no clear answer. For something like that she probably had to be in Booty Bay, one of the vendors said.<p>

Hurias noted her disappointment. Though she did not linger on it for long. Riselle was, as he had noticed, a pleasant person to be around. Friendly and polite. The elf woman rested her hand on the large head of the wolf. Rena had not picked up the scent again, but circled closely around them, with her ears standing up straight and her keen nose alert to sniff out anything suspicious. Riselle had noticed that Rena had become watchful.

"Do you want to look somewhere else?" Hurias asked her. By now they had seen most of what the busy market had to offer, ending up at the beginning again.  
>He hesitated as he passed a rack of swashbuckler shirts. Riselle saw him linger. She had noticed many people around here in the nice-fitting shirt which came in various colors.<p>

"Care to take a look?" she asked with a smile. Normally Hurias did not like shopping very much, at least not with Jeri. She always made him play pack mule when she asked him to accompany her. With Riselle he found it wasn't so bad. It had actually been fun to rummage through every bargain they came across. If only to see the looks on her face when she saw something Silvermoon did not have to offer.

"No, I'll come back another time," he said and wanted to turn around. Riselle stopped him. "We are here right now, they might not be there anymore if you return another day," she said and pointed at the rack of shirts.  
>"The young lady is right," they heard the squeaky voice of a small goblin woman say who appeared from between the tent and the rack of shirts. She eyed Hurias with a smirk. "I see the lady has a point," she said, pointing at the simple linen shirt he was wearing. "I bet you look better in one of these," she said and winked at Riselle. "These are fine shirts for this climate young man! Good quality and for a bargain price," the woman sought through the rack and pulled out a blue shirt from it, holding it up for Hurias to look at. He was a little overwhelmed when the woman grabbed him by an arm and dragged him to a large mirror. "There we go, show us how nice this will look on you, don't be shy," she giggled as he looked at Riselle. She nodded encouragingly.<p>

He felt very uncomfortable standing in the middle of the market taking of his shirt. Not that he would not get appreciative looks, but still.

The shirt did not fit him. He could barely get his arms in. "Hmm, I think you will need a bigger size," the goblin woman said and pulled out a red version of the same shirt from the rack. Hurias looked uncomfortable at the bright color. "Rather a black one I see? Not all elves dare to wear the bright red," the woman smirked, juggled with a few other shirts and as by magic pulled out a black one from somewhere between the rest. "Very popular among young man, also doing very well with the ladies," she said and winked at a surprised Hurias now.

"I-I ... I do not know about this," he mumbled, doubtful at first when he put the shirt on and looked at himself in the mirror. Riselle looked at him and nodded, it suited him. It brought back a memory when she looked at Hurias. Though he looked nowhere like her brother.

An image of her brother wearing a shirt similar to that of Hurias appeared in her mind. She remembered Rotharian had objected to the same kind of shirt when she encouraged him to buy it anyway, but that was long ago when she was still in Silvermoon. It had been something very different from the posh and red colored clothing people wore and considered fashionable. Wearing a black shirt was more for commoners of lower rank, and Rotharian was neither. The disapproving look on their mothers face when he came home showing it off instantly made it look like an ordinary shirt...

She smiled. How she missed Rotharian, and how she wished he would be here right now.

"It looks great," she said. He hesitated. "Yes," the squeaky voiced woman said and nodded as well. "An attractive young man such as yourself cannot look bad in a quality shirt like this! Especially not with that marvelous blond hair of yours. Your lady must be proud," Riselle gave her a stare when the woman realized she said something wrong. "Perhaps you could do with a new one yourself sweetie, from the looks of it," she said instead. Riselle had to forfeit, she could not pay for something she did not have money for. Hurias blushed lightly, his expression that of a helpless look when he realized how she looked. The goblin woman eyed them, Hurias nodding at her as she smiled. Producing a smaller version of the same black shirt. "There," she said, handing it over to Riselle. "Try it on, I'm sure it will fit when I look at you. Always easier to fit women than men," she laughed.

"But I," Riselle protested. Hurias grinned, ignoring Riselles face. "Greymur gave me some money to get something to eat. But I'm sure he will not mind you having a new shirt," he decided instead. Not telling her.

Hurias bargained for a fair price for the two shirts. He finally got the deal for six gold, a reasonable price for two shirts considering the other shirts were from 4 gold and up. The woman wrapped them in brown paper for him and smiled as she handed it to him. Now they owned a bag of snacks and two new swashbuckler shirt.

He looked at Riselle, she smiled quite different from the first time he met her and he managed to turn it into a very awkward situation. There she stood, barefoot in her pirate outfit as he still called it, still wearing the bloodstained white shirt. It was good she got a new one he figured. By now the blood spot was drawn into the fabric and would probably never get out again. She almost looked like she cut someone's throat before dinner. The funny little robot still clenched under her arm. Hurias had wondered why she did not just put the thing on the floor and have it follow her around. Because that was what it was supposed to do. He did not dare ask about it

"Anywhere else you wish to go? Or shall we favor Greymur with our presence again?" he wanted to know. Hearing the name Greymur made Rena bark loudly. "I think back to Greymur," Riselle laughed, patting Rena on the flank. The great she-wolf pushed her nose into Riselle hand, sniffing out the smell of treads. Hurias chuckled. "Oh, I see you're going to be her next best friend ... just as I am. If you give her some snacks she'll be grateful forever, until you run out of snacks ofcourse," Riselle laughed heartily, she almost sounded unconcerned.

Hurias smiled. If Jeri would see him act like he did now she would slap him on the head, saying he was an idiot. Why he did not know, but there was so much more to Riselle then the word average he had called her in the very beginning. She was far from average to him.

Forgotten his worries about losing his job for now he enjoyed her company. Forgotten was his first awkwardness with Riselle. As he saw her open the bag of snacks he had bought earlier, Rena frolicked around her, ready to be a snack diva again.

"One," he heard Riselle tell the she-wolf. Rena jumped up, wiggling her large tail, laying two large paws on Riselles shoulders so that her head was on equal height with Riselles face. She did not fear the wolf, even though many would be scared off by Rena's appearance. Probably finding her intimidating if she would stand up to somebody else, even if she had no means to show off as threatening but meant no harm. When she stood on her hind legs, she was much bigger than any elf. He guessed she was easily Greymur's height.

"No! Down! "Riselle pushed the big she-wolf away from her and gave her a warning finger. Rena let her head hung as if she had been scolded in a terrible way.  
>"Only one paw. No jumping up," she said, as if she was talking to a small child. It looked ever so amusing to Hurias when Rena lay a large paw in Riselles small hand. Riselle shook he paw and gave her the snack. Rena barked, her nose against the bag and Riselle telling her no again.<p>

"No way snack diva, otherwise we will have a very angry orc hunting us down. Greymur always sais if your still hungry you can go out and hunt it yourself," Hurias said in a strict tone. Riselle chuckled.  
>"Do you think she understands you?" she wondered. Hurias shrugged. He did not know.<br>"We must never forget that she is not a dog but a wolf. One does not need to be a hunter to know that wolves can be very loyal but also tent to be unreliable when they have a bad character, not that Rena has that, but still," he said. She smiled, still agreeing with herself he would not look bad as a hunter himself.

On the way back to Greymur's house Riselle noticed that most of the entertainment in Ratchet had only just begun. It was very busy when she looked around. Now the temperature had dropped and the night had fallen, there suddenly seemed to be things happening on every corner of the street. The houses near the wharf were lit with flashing lights, like she had seen with Winter Veil. Everywhere there were fire pits or fire barrels to heat the place. Weird wheeled grills could be seen on every turn, the smell of either well grilled meat making your stomach rumble or the smell of burned flesh, hurried by a goblin pouring a bucket of water over his sizzling grill. Another group of goblins, dressed in colorful shirts with a palm tree print played on homemade drums, created from oil barrels. It was a huge noisy uproar to her ears at first, but if you caught the rhythm it was actually quite nice to listen to the beat of the drums.

Riselle looked around with curious eyes. Fascinated by the sudden change of town.

"You should see the amusement near the harbor, especially in the red light district," said Hurias to Riselle. "What is there to see?" she wanted to know. "Many things. From the whores to the first drunken customers giving trouble to the bouncers of some of the brothels. Sometimes they are removed and when you're all lucky they are dumped in the water to cool off," he said in a casual tone. "Want to have a look?" Riselle looked at him with a smile, actually to Hurias' surprise, because he did not expect her to respond like that. He would have expected a more suited contemptuous look like most would give in Silvermoon if they would know about such a situation, but she did not.  
>"Maybe safe it for another time?" he said cautiously. He dared not go there on his own. Not after Jeri took him and Greymur to The Pink Stocking where her sister worked. What he had seen there had shocked him beyond words. Adding the description of the Gang in Bang to that list made it sure he would never have the courage to enter it alone. But he did not want to admit that.<p>

"If Greymur has time we can have a look ofcourse," he quickly added. Riselle just smiled.

The walk back to Greymur's home took them through a much quieter part of dim lighted streets then down town. They came across a group of drunken humans, hardly able to stand on their own feet. A group of patrolling Bruisers. And they ran into Zanak who unfortunately had no time for a chat. Not that Hurias minded the small goblin to take off after he had expressed his explicit interest in her welfare and if the alarm-o-bot was still operating like it was programmed to. Hurias did not understand what they were talking about, but he was glad to see Zanak leave in a hurry.

"Hurias?" he looked sideways at her when they walked up hill. "Thank you," she said with a smile. He grinned boyishly, not sure what attitude fitted best with the horrible blush that crept up from his neck again. Lucky for him she moved ahead with Rena. Making him have a peaceful moment to muse about the evening. The words 'thank you'…they gave a whole new dimension to his evening. It no longer felt as if he had been sent out by Greymur to show her around, but - if circumstances had been different- almost felt like a successful first date to him. He turned red like an overripe tomato. ... what was he thinking! He shook his head in embarrassment about the run his thoughts took with him.

Some of the street lights flickered on and off, which made parts of the road extremely dark. If he would have had the guts, he perhaps would have dared to ...

The scream took him by surprise, instantly shaking him out of his thoughts. A shrill cry in panic… then it was quiet ...he was sure it had come from Riselle. Where was Riselle? With a jerk he turned around, searching. He did not see her. Nor the wolf.

A hand grabbed him by the back of his head, twisting a hand into a full lock of his hair, holding it in a firm grip. Before he could say anything he felt paralyzed for a moment. "Oh, that was too easy…,you and that wolf," the voice chuckled next to his ear, pulling him back a little further in a painful way. "A blond good looking young blood elf male? How original…," the rattling voice instinctively stiffened him in fear. "Almost too young to be called a man ... ," the nasty rasping wheeze turned into horrible coughing before he dared to turn his face. He was too late when he heard the voice say:"Run little boy… run ... run as fast as you can," the man laughed, a nasty hateful laugh. Hurias had to obey the voice, the cold and malignant laugh ringing in his head when he felt the sudden urge to run in terror and make his escape. He never saw the next spell coming the man casted on him.

Gripped in fear, urged to run, with a heart pounding heavily in his throat and a rushed feeling of uneasiness he could not control he ran, overwhelmed by the fear. He ran…as hard and as far as he could.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Caught**

By the time the fear spell finally faded from him and Hurias stop running he was exhausted. His limbs sore from activity he wasn't used to. He returned to the place where he had last seen Riselle. Still panting from the fearful experience all he found was the alarm-o-bot, lying on its back making small steps in mid air, while the flashing light on his head lit up bright red.

* * *

><p>The faint sounds of a rather hateful laughter echoed in her ears. It drifted from left to right like a thunderstorm would in a valley. 'Riselle…." Is seemed to say to her. The voice was far from pleasant. She shook her head to get rid of the sound but it didn't help. Her head felt painful, the pain running down to the part between her shoulder blades where is fainted. Far from pleasant.<p>

"Well, well, well…and she finally wakes," the rather sarcastic voice said to her. Her whole stomach tied itself in a knot when she recognized the voice. The uneasy feeling she felt on the market came back to her when she returned to reality.  
>When she opened her eyes the world first seemed to be made of two indistinct blurry parts before they joined together into a clear and sharp vision. Where was she?<p>

Riselle noticed the roots of a giant tree. And the sky slowly coloring with early summer light. It made the remaining blanket of the dark night slowly fade off its last stars. While the moon was still up in the sky, the sun would be rising within a few hours she realized.

Everything felt painful, stiff and...restricted. When she tried to move she came to the conclusion that her hands were tied. She lay on her side in an uncomfortable position with her legs slightly bend, ankles tied together with a thick rope secured between her knees. It provided the base of the rest of the ropes that were tied around her hands. She panicked first, trying to pull the ropes from her hands. "Pull at your cuffs as much as you like girl, scream as much as you want..., nobody will come to your aid here," he laughed knowingly. "You know why not? Because those pesky little goblins are too afraid to set foot in a nest of angry raptors. I found that out while running from them myself. The only thing that can happen here is being mistaken for a tasty bite by an angry raptor who devour you," she heard him say, grinning.

She wanted to scream, loud, for help. This wasn't good at all, not when she saw him. She wanted to cry out for Greymur, Hurias, Rena, anybody she knew. Anybody who would aid her. He simple rolled his eyes when he said: "Here they can't hinder me anymore. Here we're out of their greedy little green claws." Riselle eyes were wide open, instantly scanning the area to see if she could recognize anything. How far off were they from Ratchet?

"Your closer then you think, close enough to be out of their reach, far enough to never be heard when you scream from the top of your lungs," he smirked. "You gave me quite the sport of hunting you down Riselle. Did you know those insolent little bastards didn't want to give you up? Not even when I tried to be so reasonable. I even told them I was sent by Silvermoon authorities, but that big one, that leads the place, he would not buy my story. He told me to have the Silvermoon authorities request for you themselves," he said. Riselle stared at him from her disposition.

"He made a grave mistake thinking you would not be taken by force when his orcish guard dog would not watch you. I did warn him but he would not listen, no matter, I got you now," he mentioned in a strange tone.

"You know they threatened to lock me up? Laughable isn't it, considering they had one of their puny priest try and mind control me," he laughed hatefully when he remembered the goblin woman referred to herself as excellent in her skills. Well, he broke her mind control easily enough. All he had to do was wait for the right moment. They obviously had no idea whom they were dealing with. Riselle had no idea what he was talking about, but it was bothersome for him, she could tell by the way he was talking about it. "Like I said, it does not matter anymore, you will not cause any more trouble," he said, pointing to the ropes.

"The things I do for mother and Lohurin…," he grumbled loudly, he shook his head. "Ofcourse I won't tell mother you truly were a hard catch," he said offensive, not wishing to admit his defeat in that. She hesitating, vaguely remembered the moment when she had recognized the voice that matched the face. Although the face no longer looked like the face she remembered with the original voice. He had changed, a lot.

Last time she saw him he was not like this. Last time he still had been a handsome young man. Somebody with wits and humor, somebody smart. Somebody with anger against his own family. Now he was turning into this freakish creature with a raspy breath, something he did not have when she last met with him.

He muttered while he shoved aside several bottles. They clanked together when he grew impatient with them. When she turned her head a little she noticed the place was littered with all sorts of parchment, pigment, the small bottles filled with ink and his grinder. He grinned at her.

"Recognize this?" He held up a bottle of ink, dark red substance that would be used to write a spell on one of the different pieces of parchment. She did recognize it, unfortunately knowing what he was making. She hoped she was wrong though. He was mixing ink to get the right one for the spell he needed.

He gurgled, then spat on the ground, a black sort of saliva dripping from one of the corners of his mouth. He looked horrible, the taste was probably worse. After that he sat himself down, cross legged on the ground next to her, comfortable enough to grind out in the open and not bother to look around. A whole bag of herbs open in front of him near his legs as he was leaning against the tree-trunk. Taking some yellow colored flowers he dumped in his grinder as he pulverized them. While working more flowers to pulp with his grinder he put the different sorts of pigment in empty bottles, ready to add some liquid to it that would turn it into the required ink. She knew exactly what he was doing when she looked at him. And it bothered her more to see he was halfway through the process. It was something she had been taught as well when she studied the ways of the scribe next to her paladin studies.

"I'm nearly done, do you know what that means?" He did not wait for her answer when he told her. All he did was continue the grinding that seemed to tire him out so quickly. She heard him inhale deeply as he took a moment to come back to his senses. Taking out new flowers to crush in his grinder. "This will provide us a ticket home…but ofcourse there were no herbs to be found when I needed them most, as always. And as it was hard to walk around without being arrested I had to be creative, but I managed to get the herbs I needed, thanks to a little money," he talked on.

"You would be surprised what some of these green little greedy buggers will do for money," he looked at her. "What matters most is that I get you home safely. This time you'll not escape me again," he chuckled, looking carefully at the ropes she pulled when he said that.

"Oh don't worry Riselle, I will deliver you in one piece to my mother, as promised," he told her with that dangerous grin that didn't suit him. "Mother is not done with you yet young lady, she will want a word, probably punish you for running off like that," Riselle had only stared at him so far. The prospect of meeting with the mother again did not appeal to her. Nothing good could come from that.

It made her wonder about Asathar, remembering the blow against the side of her head. A firm blow with something hard when she saw his face looming up from a dark corner when she had been waited for Hurias to finally catch up with her. She had been surprised when Rena suddenly ran off, as in fear. Now she understood why.

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment, as if she could do something in her current state. "You always look so messy. Mother does not like any of the girls to be messy Riselle, you should always make sure you look your best when you meet with her," she gave him a quaint look when he brushed a strand of auburn her from her face with a long claw like finger.

"Our own little precious Riselle," she heard him say, almost lovingly. "The woman that fulfilled my mother's greatest wish. And caused us so many sleepless nights," the nasty way in which he brought that up gave her a very unpleasant feeling. His finger tapped her forehead. The knot in her stomach tightened when she heard the voice chuckle in a dark way. Riselle swallowed, trying to rid herself of that anxious feeling that overwhelmed her so badly.

" I'm glad I finally tracked you down again. I have to say you did a very good job avoiding me. I'd like to hear how you managed to do escape me in the Plaguelands sometimes, if you're still capable of doing that," he said, going back to squashing the flowers into pigment again.

"You have no idea how much effort it has cost me to hunt you down until now!" He laid down his grinder for a moment and bend over to firmly grab her chin in a pair of those ghostly white finger. Pulling her face to the left with a firm tug to look at her more closely.

"Hmmm, you're still as pretty as I remember you, but you shouldn't have shared your bed with my brother," he said. Riselle stared into the vicious face of a white-featured man with a pointed chin. His cheeks looked hollow as well as his temples. Black and grayish skin framed the edges around his now bright blue eyes. She remembered him with the same green eyes she had. He used to have a laughing face back then. Surrounded by white blond hair that fell down to his back. Something he was proud of she remembered.  
>Now the skin of his whole face now seemed so thin, his lips cracked, his whole appearance fragile. The hairline of his blond hair was much further back than she remembered it. Unlike a healthy elf man. She shivered when she saw him try and subdue a cough that made him gurgle up that weird black saliva again. He made a strange chocking sound. Before her sat half a wretched man to her own horror.<p>

"Too shocked to even open your big mouth now? No orcs to feel safe with? No lovesick youngsters to fight for your honor?" He sneered. "Oh I've watched him…that burly grey orc of yours…you were with him in the tavern, at the healers…several times, he guards you like a watchdog!" He spat, making it sound offensive. She merely blinked in fright when he let go of her chin, scratching the side of her cheek slightly.

He needed to stand up, stretch his limbs that started to bother him again. He paced up and down before her. His feet very close to her face when he stopped in front of her. "And the elf! What is his story Riselle? A young man like that…hardly worthy to be called a man yet. Were you about to spoil him? What did he do for you? Shower you with gifts? Did you promise to give yourself to him like you did to Lohurin? Or was it an accident? Is he from a rich family perhaps? Did he offer you protection because he pitied you? Hmm?" The man laughed when he looked at her. He smiled, a hurtful smile. Riselle did not like the way he tried to make her feel guilty.

"I never seduced your brother! Nor did I ever know he was your brother…until he revealed his little trick," she finally said, opening her mouth for the first time to him. "And she finally talks!" He applauded in sarcasm. "I was almost worried the orc had your tongue cut out to make sure you would not talk anymore. Vicious creatures they are, did you know that? Especially those of his tribe," he said to her. "Did you know that orcs drown their children in a puddle of water for the whole tribe to see when the infant is sick? No room for failure there. I have doubts if that is the better way to rid yourself of an unwanted child. The grey orc would have drowned your bastard I'm sure," he said with a sly grin. Riselle wanted to tell him to leave Greymur and Hurias out of it, that he and Hurias had nothing to do with anything he wanted from her. "They do not know anything," she said instead.

"Very good, " he agreed. "At least it kept you from pulling an innocent young man into your problems," he made her sound cheap. "**I didn't seduce your wicked brother**!" She cried out. He simply looked at her. "You did nearly cost my brothers his wedding. The father of the bride was furious when he found out his daughters betrothed was going to father a bastard when he heard the rumors. Did you know that? But mother fixed that for us. ..ofcourse. Did you know about that too?" He waited to see if she had any reply to that. Instead he saw her eyebrows turn into a frown.

"You didn't know about that…?" He seemed surprised. "I don't know what you mean," she said. He grew impatient with her. "Don't play innocent with me Riselle, you knew about that! Mother told me you cast aside her proposal the moment she tried to bring it up with you!" He threw away one of the flowers that didn't appeal to him when he filled his grinder again. She gazed at him, craning her neck to look at him better. The pain between her shoulder blades annoyed her for that.

"To do what? Keep me chained to the wall in the basement of your mothers mansion for your brother to ride me whenever he had needs his new wife would refuse him? She proposed to keep me as his bloody whore!" Riselle spat at him, vexed. He looked puzzled at her for a moment.

"Motherrrrrr," she heard him say with a low growl turning his hands into fists. It freaked Riselle out to see him upset about that. If something didn't help his case was the constant changing of his moods. He coughed horribly after that, heaving his chest in a quick way. "That wasn't the proposal she told me about," he finally hissed, hesitant.

"She said managed to convince the council it was my child you carried! **Not Lohurins**!" He sounded annoyed. " **You were supposed to marry me in name, have my baby, not his!"** His tone was firm, strong, full of regret when he looked at her with a sad expression on his face. Riselle stared at him. She never knew. But it was obvious his mother played them both a nasty trick. He was silent after that, grinding his plants and dividing them into the small bottles.

"No proposal could have fixed that…," she said. Once he would have made good match for any eligible girl. If he would have been a healthy elf man he would have done her family honors by agreeing to a marriage with a family that was shunned. "Nobody would have known it was Lohurins to begin with if she hadn't poked around," Riselle said, angry. Asathar gave her a strange glare. Riselle sucked in her lip when he grimaced. "It was wrong of you to threatened to keep her grandson away from her. Knowing she wanted that more than anything. That was a cruel mistake to make." He was a bit late in suggesting otherwise now.

"Better cruel then let her have him!" She told him. Whatever the woman wanted with her son, she was not going to have Riselle mother over him if she could have helped it. He shook his head. "Foolish brave Riselle…perhaps you should have given him up when you had the chance. But you wouldn't hear of that would you. Not even when your own family cast you aside. Oh you wouldn't know about the juicy gossip I heard in the streets of Silvermoon, mostly coming from that annoying Saltheril and his eternal parties," he grumbled. He sounded so bitter, shushing her when she opened her mouth to say something.

"I never intended to give up my son. You would have done the same if you were me. Last time I spoke with you I recall you were willing to burn down the whole mansion," she reminded him, hoping to play in on any sympathy he had left. It brought a broken smirk to his face.

"Oh yes, I loved playing with fire back then didn't I. Hurtful in so many ways," the broken smirk turned into a less appealing smile when his lips twisted.

"Asathar…I never knew about that proposal, all she gave me was threats…" she had trouble looking at him when he finally kneeled down in front of her, face too close to hers. "I..," it came out softly. He looked down on her from her disposition. "Too late to linger on that now Riselle, for both of us. All I have now is what was left to me! And I have to pay for that." His voice was hoarse. She felt his bony fingers rest on her chin for a moment. She was obliged to look at him when he pressed his sharp nails into her chin.

"My person is waning Riselle. My personality less my own every day I am out in the middle of freaking nowhere without the use of crystals. You of all people should know how hard that is for somebody. I cannot keep track of my own thoughts some time," his grasp was harsh, his smirk dangerous, claw-like nails damaging her upper skin. If he had wanted he could have wounded her with his claw like hands. Leaving marks on her jaw that would bleed intense, but he restrained himself when he looked at her, shaking his head.

"It would have been a privilege, if that was what it would have taken to get us out of there…I was willing to consider," he answered quietly, making her feel even more guilty for something she hadn't known. "Now I'm merely _honored _that you still remember my true name. Others have stopped bothered to call me by that long ago. Not even my own mother calls me that anymore," he let go of her chin softly as he looked at his own hands. Riselle could not help but sympathize a little for that knowledge. "But that was then, this is now," he replied. Riselle watched him. Asathar Whitemorn, she had not forgotten him. Nor what he done for her. His last choice wasn't exactly taken with deep thought.

He checked her ropes before he chuckled in a creepy self-assured manner. Riselle felt her heart beat in her throat as she looked up at him now. He knew he was changing when they spoke in the mansion. Nonetheless he helped her escape. By going against his own mother. During her flight she remembered she was held up in Ghostlands. Mostly because she was sick. With few supplies she eventually made it to Tranquillien. Minor things she could not avoid when she arrived there was the news that already spread about the young pregnant woman that was last seen in a very confused state. Whitemorn would pay well for any information on her whereabouts. The Lady, she tried to delay her more, keep her there because she was with child. Ghostlands was not a suitable place for a young woman carrying a baby. The lady would alert her parents she tried to have Riselle believe when somebody recognized her. But Riselle knew better and had other plans.

Late that night a courier came to tell the Lady that a body was found near the death scar. She overheard them talking he was identified as the youngest of the Whitemorn sons. She had been sad to hear, but happy for Asathar. That was what he wanted back then.

It took her more than two weeks to get out of Tranguillien. Before they realized she had gone she was halfway through the forest.

Her lips pursed together. Perhaps he should have stayed dead. Because when he came back he wasn't there to aid her, instead he chased her. Promising to drag her back to his mother to undo what he did for her. Whatever made him change his mind she did not know, but his mothers offer must have been great.

"Why did you come back and hunt me?" He snorted, ignored the question in her voice. "Personal matters," was all she got. "As my mother has personal matters to discuss with you," he said sarcastic as he saw her frown. "Oh I can see the curiosity has not left you yet. I can almost read all the questions you do not dare ask out loud," he smirked darkly at her. He had hunted her down, through the passage near Deathholm, into the Plaguelands. He was faster than her, driven by something vicious.

Riselle remembered she hid in the burned down ruins of an old house. She was more worried when he sniffed her out and was calling for her surrender. She had lost too much time in Ghostlands. Two weeks added to her pregnancy did not help her run faster. She seriously thought it would end in that ruin. All he had to do was corner her, but he took his time for that, postponing it. He made her wait. She never knew if it was to mock her or to help her, but it happened.

Until he waited too long and the mage showed up out of nowhere. Wherever the man had come from she did not know, but suddenly he was there. A portal opening in the middle of the dark room that was covered with cobweb. First she stared at him, bright green eyes he had, far brighter then hers. He urged her to be silent.

The warm smile he gave for her when he saw the small rounding of her womb in the dress she was wearing. The sign he made was for portal. She knew that, a universal sign so any mage would understand what you meant, in case you would be in neutral territory and they didn't speak the language. Be offered her a way out. She was never happier to see the strange elf then on that moment. Without questioning her when he read the fright in her eyes. That she was out of place in those burned ruins was obvious. He was a blessing to her in her time of need, something she had not expected. She was still grateful to this day on to the man who did not ask question but simply opened her a portal to the other side of the world. Making a gesture for her to enter it quickly before he closed it again. Ending her up somewhere she had never been before. Apparently Asathar had lost track of her there.

"You make a good hunt I have to admit that. Not that I enjoy doing their dirty job, but there's a price for everything, even you know that," he said, picking up a piece of parchment he had laying around. She wondered what price he had to agree to when they found him. He muttered something before he inhaled deeply and could continue his grinding again. She did not remembered that he was this far into his transformation. He had still looked like a normal young elf male back then. He did no longer.

He laughed, dark and dangerous when she dared to look up from her lying position, watching him move around in a nervous way as he suddenly grabbed hold of his own hand. The grinder fell to the ground, the content of the pigment spread half over the sandy ground near the bottom of the tree. He gurgled again as he gritted his teeth. The trembling finally seemed to seize when he cursed to himself and inhaled sharply

"Whatever happened to you?" He didn't like the pitying tone in her voice. Nor the worry in her expression. "**YOU** happened to me Riselle! You and my horrible obsessive mother." For a moment he looked as if he was in pain again, breathing loudly through his nose when he let go of his own hand. After that he looked neutral for a moment. His thin lips pursed in a scornful smirk. "Actually, you, Lohurin… and my persevering mother with her cursed bloodline," he corrected himself. He looked bitter when he talked about his mother.

"For months nobody could trace you, and suddenly you popped up in this mud hole. At least it made the minor setback I had in the Plaguelands seem like a small error. Did you know how long I waited for information to hear you were spotted again? Those pesky goblins proved to be a nuisance, but I did them a favor. You'll not cause them or anybody else any more trouble, mother will see to that," he promised. When he mentioned the matriarch mother, head of the Whitemorn family, Riselle nearly wanted to cry out.

The woman had given her no pleasant memories. He smirked satisfied when he noticed her response. "I'm slightly disappointed in you! My mother will be so… _very pleased…_to see you again," he reassured her and licked his dry lips.

"What did she do to you Asathar?" Riselle felt her heart pounding in her temples as a nasty pressure came down on her, making it hard to breath as the panic slowly closed in on her. She did not wish to meet with the mother again!

"A lot. Too much. And I have to pay for that as you can see. But my mother will be very pleased to see you again. If it is only to obtain the whereabouts of her grandson. You're hers, no matter how hard you deny that. You became hers when you gave her that grandson she wanted to badly," he marked his words by laying his hand on her flat stomach. He didn't feel extra magic in there. His face was a grimace. Riselle would rather not meet with the mother again. The words 'rather not' underlined in her thoughts. He gave her a dirty look, replacing it with a new haunting and dangerous grin on his face. She swallowed loudly, it was hard not to give in to her mixed feelings. As the panic was pulling her down, but her rational self remained tried to remain calm.

What happened to her paladin training? Wasn't this what she had been trained for? For years. To be able to handle things with a clear vision, alertness, to guide those whom could not think straight anymore, to avoid unnecessary situations? This was one of those situations, but this time she was not in charge of the negotiations for the problem that occurred, this time she was the problem. And she did not know what to do right now.

Her last memories of the Whitemorn matriarch were shoved away, pushed back in a dark corner of her mind, a distant memory. The fear she had felt when she was chained to the wall in the basement of the Whitemorn summer mansion, where the mother had explicitly told how she would do _anything_ to make her Lohurin a happy man ...with 'everything' she really had meant... everything, Riselle had found out.

"It is almost a shame the hunt it over," he mentioned, the way he tried to grind more flowers in his angry way made her doubtful. Being delivered back to the Whitemorn mother would mean her demise or a life in chains. And her own family would never know. If she had known about the proposal the mother made her son it would have benefitted her family, who could use the respect they had lost after their Outlands adventure.

Once a large group of blood elves, among them Riselles parents, had traveled through the Dark Portal in search of their lost prince. The few that did return to Silvermoon were welcomed back with revered sympathy. Whatever they found out there was hardly spoken off, but the betrayal of prince Kael'thas was a fact nobody could deny. Not something that was overcome easily by the group that followed their prince and called themselves blood elves. Whatever happened out there was not something her parents were willing to share. The few of the same group that did returned to Silvermoon went mad, giving into their addiction. They turned into wretched. Freakish deformed elves, hollow shadows of what they once used to be.

Her father's own addiction was proof of that, he managed to keep it in steady waters because he had a private stash of crystals he used to compensate his urge to siphon magic. Arcane magic proved a nasty addiction. Eventually he ended up being avoided by Silvermoons higher society, like so many others families. They were no longer praised for the long and old bloodline they came from.

Refusing the Whitemorn matriarch meant to against a woman with connections. Since she was considered a fallen woman nobody would believe her. Ofcourse the matriarch of the Whitemorn would make sure of that. And since she could not openly talk about the grandson Riselle carried she made sure the girl was nearby. An heir to the Whitemorn family. The few Whitemorns left were scattered around. They weren't important enough to call themselves true heirs to the wealth of the family. They were left over cousins, far away siblings, nothing worthy enough to mention.

But Riselle her son was a true grandson. And Lohurin was the father. His spoiled personality making him the favorite son around the Whitemorn house.

Where the mother had protected her eldest son and pampered him so faithfully, she ignored her youngest. Using him in an ill manner. Making him do all the dirty jobs.

Lohurin had this obsession with women. Him and his friends all had. Before he was betrothed he was a terror among the academy, harassing he younger female paladin initiates. Until they removed him to a more suitable position. Earning him one of the many eligible titles as a Champion of Silvermoon.

The mother made sure she arranged a good marriage for him. Also making sure to track down any of his previous problem that could damage Lohurins reputation. Riselle had seen them, lured into visiting the summer mansion, like she had. The mother got rid of all Lohurin's known problems. Usually by force. Not only those who threatened to speak out to the council about Lohurins behavior, Riselle understood later. She met one of the unfortunate girls in the basement when she was held against her will. The family drama Riselle was pulled into was more intense than the problems her own parents had given her.

To the Whitemorn mother Riselle was no more than one of the few problems that needed to be taken care off. Nothing would have been wrong if her so called friend would have kept her secret. Craziane was thrilled when she found out after Saltheril's party that Riselle was with child. Before she knew it she blurted out that Riselle was carrying and that she knew that Lohurin was the father.

Ofcourse nobody believed her. But the story went like a walking trail of fire, becoming more and more exaggerated. By then he could no longer ignore she was accused of sleeping with a Champion. Since he was the last she spent a night with it had to be true. He revealed himself and his trick that night to her, almost making her choke when he turned into the hard working man she slept with, realized it was truly his child she carried.

Lohurin himself was a stately man, considering himself an elite among the other many champions Silvermoon named. Surrounded by women en men who worshiped him. A handsome man, as he waved around his reputation where-ever he was. Whatever he needed to get what he wanted from it. That this same man would seek his pleasure elsewhere, she could not have known in advance.

He posed like any normal hard working man when she first met him. Making Riselle instantly aware -after her mistake- that a well-brewed alchemy elixir or a good enchant could easily provide a person with a temporarily change of appearance. She truly had not known.

Asathar had known when he came to steal magic from her that night. He could feel the magic of the baby, telling the gender. The baby carried the same sort of weird mana the grandmother did.

She didn't understand how he managed to tell, but apparently it was a gift.

Asathar sucked in his breath when he mixed the final ingredients to the ink and the color turned from red to almost black. "It is ready," he told her. Riselle panicked for a moment, realizing he was about to hand her over to his horrible mother.

"Asathar, please... you helped me then, help me again," she almost wanted to cry when she saw him pity her. "That was a personal malfunction," he said bitter. "**How can you say that**! You knew what was going to happen, you said it yourself," she said, not understanding why he was acting like this. "Yes, and I let my personal feelings make a bad decision for me, which ended me up like this. A simple lack of thinking …as mother stated. A default," he finally succumbed, admitting his mistake. It took him long to get himself under control again after that, coughing horribly. Riselle could not believe this.

"B-but…you ...," he shushed her again, the bony white finger pressed on her lips like before.

"I know what I said then, but this is now, and not then Riselle. I know what my brother and especially my mother are capable off. I found that out the hard way. I did not want you to end up like the rest that is true, but you have to understand…I could no longer…," he said, almost pathetic. Riselle wanted to shake her head. "**You helped ME**!" She finally cried out, her voice sounded strange. The man before let his head hang. "I did, and I paid a price for that," he said in that bitter tone of his. He sounded like he was still bothered by it.

"Why?" Riselle had to push back her tears. This wasn't the way she remembered him. Asathar's mood changed as he now looked at her in an angered way. **"Look at me Riselle! Look at what I've become**!" He said in his sudden anger, his chest going up and down in an uneven way when he struggled to maintain himself. Trying to hide the low gurgling noises he could not suppress. "**Do you know what they do to things like me? Do you think they will have sympathy when they find out what I'm becoming**? **Do you think there is any sympathy for those who cannot control their urge for arcane magic**?" He asked her, sounding harsh. Pointing his sharp nail towards her eye. Riselle produces a soft cry. She had heard and read about the physical changes when blood elves admitted to their magical addiction and could no longer control themselves. She guessed that he was somewhere towards the last stage of his transformation. She wanted to say she was sorry, realizing that he was not supposed to be the one paying for her mistake. But she could not.

"Thanks to you he is safe... because you helped me," she tried to explain to him. "That's exactly the point Riselle! You should have given up the baby!" He told her. She was silent. He was too.

"I'm scared Riselle," for a moment she heard Asathar's old self again, he seemed anxious, more than scared, but he shook it off just as easily as he changed moods. "I was scared when I knew I had a problem. I didn't have a wish to die, but I was well on my way when I helped you escape. I was about to end it all. I chose to help you because it would be my last act. Better to die a true blood elf, then to die like…this! But mother 'rescued' me as she called it…offering me protection," she heard him say in a difficult way. Before her stood a man with no hope of reliving his old days in the glory of his former appearance.

"Your mother has no right to him," Riselle said firm. "Lohurin does," he reminded her. Riselles lower lip trembled. "Lohurin will never step to the council and claim him as his legitimate son. He would never admit he is the father to a bastard son if it would damage his reputation. He'll not have him, not as long as I'm here," she cried hoarsely. Asathar looked obliquely at her now, a brief smile curled his lips up when she said that. The eerie feeling making her realize what he meant without saying it. Riselle turned pale, she did not believe him.

The legal father had the full right to claim the child, if he spoke out as the father and only when the mother would no longer be able to care for the child itself. It made her feel threatened, angry and powerless, no stones she wished for the base of her near future.

Lohurin was the father, she could not deny that. But he wasn't supposed to know that! She wasn't going to tell him when she found out herself, since he was the last man she ever spent a night with. Until the Whitemorn matriarch found out herself, hearing out the blabbering girls that talked. The girl was so chatty she gave away more of Lohurins affairs to his mother.

Riselle took precaution and arranged things for her son, more out of necessity.

Not that she would have ever married Lohurin. The thought never crossed her mind. She would never consider the Champion of the Whitemorn family. Besides that Lohurin was married to Anayis. And Risseles child would be considered a bastard child. And bastard children were rarely accepted by their biological fathers. Nobody in whole damned Silvermoon would have cared if it was the bastard of the blacksmith. Or a lovechild created with some other noble lord. It wasn't uncommon to become a mistress. But she didn't want to be a mistress, she wanted to be a mother. She didn't want to spread her legs to his needs if he wanted some fun.

They couldn't force her to give up the child, but they could make it unpleasant for her. If she would have abandoned her son it would have died. But not if the Whitemorn family could get their claws on him. And the Whitemorn mother had different plans with the child, Riselle didn't like that idea.

If she had known that fateful dark evening when she ran from home to drink away her sorrows that she would have come across the Champion of the Whitemorn family in disguise, she would never have shared a bed with him. Unfortunately she could not turn back time.

The invitation to the Whitemorn mansion was merely a set up. When she refused she was carried off by force. Made into a threat to herself that needed protection. Burn marked with an invisible sign that told everybody she was a threat for herself and her unborn child.

She never looked her chatty friend in the face again after that. When Asathar came to her he offered to help her escape. For that he had his own reasons. Breaking free of the Whitemorn family was because he didn't agree with his mothers idea's. He could no longer approve of certain things she did. Helping Riselle escape would make sure they would not look for him. All eyes would be directed to the escaped mother to be, running off with the Whitemorn successor. And he would have been on his way out. That was his intention, but it did not turn out like that.

Now she still ended up into the claws of the Whitemorn family.

Asathar turned away from her for a second, searching for something in his bag. Producing a feathery quill and as he took one of the pieces of parchment. She heard the scratching of the pencil on a piece of parchment as she saw him dip the quill in a small sized pot of ink.

"Asathar… please reconsider," she pleaded again. He stopped writing to look at her. He chuckled. "What would I benefit from that now Riselle?" he asked, in between two heavy inhales through his nose. "I do not know…but you can't let your mother have her way! Please!" her voice became more pleading. He shook his head.

"I cannot change things anymore. I did and I failed," he said. Riselle crushed her jaws together. "**Your..your mother is a dangerous and crazy woman**!" She spat it out before she knew it. Asathar looked hateful to her for that remark. "Now that is hateful. **You…**should have thought about that before you shared your bed with my brother!" He said, as if she greatly wronged him by that. He grabbed her by the collar of her blood stained white shirt, dropping his quill and parchment to the side, nearly kicking over the small bottle of ink.

His face was horribly close to hers. He remained very still for a moment, with a cruel grin on his face when he picked up her scent. With a disapproving face he looked at her."Look at you! You smell of orc, of wolf, of goblins," he wrinkled his nose. "Your own mother would be ashamed if she could see you like this! Walking around as if you're some cheap pirate whore!" he looked in a dirty way at her when he said that. He let her fall back against the trunk of the tree. "You have slipped below your own respect Riselle if you give yourself to the types that gather around in this stinking mud hole," he remarked in a sneering tone. She gasped at him. "I ... I'm not a whore!" she said, appalled with his the mere thought when he was shaking his head. "You look cheap enough to be one," he said, observing her closely.

"It does not matter anymore. I owe you nothing anymore. After tonight I will owe my mother nothing anymore. She will owe me," he said with a wicked grin. She looked at him in disgust.

"The only thing I can do to reconsider your freedom is when you tell me where the bastard whelp is Riselle. I could pretend you gave him to me, no harm would come to you if you would disappear. All you have to do is be out of my mother's way for the rest of your life, because she will never let you go, not even after she has the baby," he said in a hoarse and tired voice, having to catch his breath afterwards again. "Why do you do this?" She asked of him.

"Do you wish to know so badly Riselle? My old self would rather see you alive. Old Asathar would. But not how I am now...I cannot help it. Nor can I help you. If mother finds a cure, I will be my old self again," he said quietly, looking at her. She wondered if that was possible. The Whitemorn mother was said to hold great powers, dark powers even, but Riselle could not believe the woman was capable of curing him.

If she could redo that part of her past she would start by avoiding the tavern and Lohurin that night. He truly had looked like an ordinary working man, a man with a difficult story, just like hers. Together they had sat at the bar of the tavern, and they had drunk to the vanity of the rich and noble families. About the rumors that always spread like wildfire around Silvermoon the moment one of the higher ranked people had made a mistake.

Together they had laughed at the many faces of the monarchy and the hierarchy within the walls of the city. Clinging their beers to the days that it would all become better, hoping for improvement now Lor'themar Theron was Regent Lord. To a new future now that the Horde had taken them under their banner. Together, they agreed that manipulative parents should not have a right to impose things such as pressure on their adult children. These weren't the old days anymore. He had really looked like a working class man ... low ranked, a man who was engaged in his daily place in the life of the city that had so knew so many layers of population.

She had listened to him while he spoke about his problems with his family. What he said wasn't entirely untrue. All he did was wrap it into a fictional story before she recognized his mother in it. He had listened to her in return, while she shared her problems over too much alcohol. Too drowsed to realize he was faking things. Eventually they had chemistry, as he called it, ending them up in bed together.

He had rented a room ... she should have known that any simple hard working man supporting his own family in difficult circumstances would not have been able to produce so much gold pieces from his battered moneypouch and rented an expensive room like that ...but she did not see it then. Blinded by her own problems at home, worried about what would come next, she did not pay attention. Too naive ... too preoccupied with herself she realized. Not enough energy to see what her mother always warned her about, bad influence of certain types of men. And she tumbled right into it.

Something she had scolded herself many times for. Yes, she admitted she had been stupid back then. But she learned from those mistakes.

"It truly is a shame to see you like this Riselle, since I always liked you when we were still in class together," he admitted, picking up his quill again and the parchment he was scribbling on. It was difficult to create the right spell in the ink he needed to make it a scroll of recall, which would instantly sent him home. He wasted four pieces of parchment before his trembling hands got it right. He looked up from his parchment and seemed to focus on her. "I think, we have a way home," he announced. Riselle felt her heart pound in her throat. "You could prevent this you know," he told her, for the last time, closing his eyes briefly as if he had to think about the reaction she would give him.

"Simply tell me where you have hidden the bastard child and I will promise you your freedom. Be gone from here, far away," Riselle stared at him. "Never," she whispered. "What is one child? Stupid girl! I would hate to see you in so much pain. It's such a waste to see you die, honestly, but if I have to...I can save you from so much pain," the tightness of his grimace as his bright blue eyes fixed on her.

"What has she done to you Asathar?" She felt the tears prick behind her eyes when she looked at him. "Enough to pay for my mistakes," she heard him say in a miserable way.

Once he was a handsome young man, but mostly a healthy young man. Asathar was a cheerful intelligent young man she had shared her lessons with while studying for scribe. Dignified and charming he was. Elegant in his ways while dealings with others. Quite unlike his older brother. She had known him well during their studies, but never linked to Lohurin. He had never boasted about his brother. It could have given him privileges, more respect perhaps. But he did not chose to say anything. Silvermoon had more champions, all respected by society. He did not use that status to show off, so she only knew him as Asathar, never knew as the younger brother to the Whitemorn Champion.

"You do understand that I need to put right what I did wrong then," he said solemnly. She eyed him. "To what? To return to the favor of a mother that uses you in her own favor?" She dared him now, though he did not flinch when she pointed out what he denied. He inhaled to calm himself.

"Do not make this harder than it already is Riselle," he warned her, stashing away his many bottles and pieces of parchment in several bags that sat on the ground. He made sure he carefully put away the pigment that had survived his anger moments and did not lay on the ground. "Perhaps she will reconsider to forgive you when you condemn yourself to her will, she might even spare you what she held against you at first," he said.

"But it is not very likely that the Riselle I know would do that for my mother. You're simply too proud for that yourself aren't you?" For a moment he smiles, like the old Asathar would do. "Such a shame Riselle...," she heard the young man say that she knew from her studies and would lecture her if she would slack her studies. Long before he fell to the temptation of his addiction. She had seen many wretched elves turn aggressive towards others or siblings, dwindling to find magic to siphon into their system. To give into the craving.

"I would advise you in pleading to my mother for mercy, as you can't afford yourself anything in your current position," he informed her, sounding like the matriarch mother herself. "Neither can you it seems," she guessed, looking at him in a fierce way. Whatever it was the matriarch mother had promised him, it was probably something magnificent. He sniffed irritated. She saw his limbs tremble, his fingers curled in a painful frustration. His arms showed a weird spasm that made her shriek in fear as he could not control the strange shaking of his whole body.

"I need to…," he gurgled suddenly in a weird tone, his fingers stretching in a spastic way as his eyes rolled up and down in their sockets. He trembled more, as if he had a fever. His teeth clattering loudly and hollow as he collapsed to his knees. She feared what he would do next. His lips pronounced a silent spell she had seen done many times before. A drainage spell to steal magic, one that bounced off of on her to his surprise. His hand grabbed for his bag as she could almost feel the vivid shaking phase he was going through as he eyed her with a questioning look on his face.

His hands searching feverishly into the bag, to find a bottle with a green swirling content he emptied inside his mouth. It eased him instantly. Throwing the bottle against the trunk he took her face forcefully in both his hands now. "**Where?..WHERE is your magic**!" Riselle felt the pressure in her ears grow when he clutched his hands harder against the sides of her face.

"**I do not believe this**," he growled in sheer frustration. She looked embarrassed when he had discovered her little secret. "**You mock me**!" he cried out in an aggressive way. With a deep gurgling growl from the back of his throat he dived on top of her, pinning her down beneath him. With renewed strength, one of his white bony hands caught around her throat in an unpleasant way. She coughed when he squeezed her windpipe tighter. "**You deprive me of your magic! I know you have a great amount of that! Where has it gone**!" he said angrily.

"G-gone…blocked," she managed to choke as he let go of her, she wanted to add thanks to your mother, instead she gasped for breath. He growled in sheer frustration. "If I cannot have your magic, you will keep me warm with your life energy until we get home," he concluded forcefully, gritting his teeth. He knew his mother's hand in this.

"Amusing they have cut you off from something you have grown addicted too as well. Horrible isn't it when you are no longer able to use something you relied on for so long. It would seem mothers interference made sure they have denied you aces to your precious holy light for the mistakes you have made," he laughed sarcastically. She stared at him. "Well then, I will make sure I will use up most of your energy when we get home, after that mother can deal with you," he said, laughed gurgling. She was on the edge of panic now. Only too well aware that she could not move anywhere, not escape. This was it?

"Asathar ... please I-I know you are changing, but remember you weren't always like this," she tried. He laughed at her. "And what? I was never my brother, nor will I ever be," he said grim. "If I was my brother mother would have made sure I would never have been tempted. But I'm not am I! For your sake I'm sorry I'm not." He shook his head, forcing himself to remain calm as the changes took a lot of his energy. Riselle did not know what that statement meant. All she knew was the cold sweat on her forehead suddenly, her lungs filling with the fresh air of the new morning that slowly scared off the faint light that had shown its face halfway through the night. If there was sympathy from his side, it was no longer there now.

"It does not have to be this way, please Asathar?" He laughed even harder, dark and deep as he looked at her. "You know Riselle, I heard people are able to make desperate decisions when they have to, perhaps you can appreciate my thought on the fact I too had to think of a way to survive." She cried softly as he looked at the sunrise. "Enjoy it ... it might be your last," for a moment he actually seemed to enjoy the rising sun himself. Time was up. Like he promised there would be nobody to come for her aid. She looked at her wrist, cursing the transmitter that was still there…why did Zanaks house arrest system not work properly? Because Greymur had been right? Because Zanak was a horrible engineer? She felt more tears roll down her cheeks, sting in her eyes when she realized the obvious. If they would search for her they would be too late.

Asathar pulled the hood of his stolen cloak over his head when the sunlight came through the branches of the tree they had been hiding under. She could not think straight anymore. Not of anything that would help her case.

A dark shadow moved rapidly to the side of the mountain slope across the field ...

The man looked condescendingly down on Riselle as he produced the scroll he had been creating earlier. A convenient and easy way to travel. He yanked her to her feet, making her balance on the tips of her toes before throwing her over his shoulder, it was not as easy as when he was still healthy.

The dark shadow moved again, this time toward the bushes surrounding the tree where they were.

"Asathar, please, can't you see she uses you... – **SHUT UP!** - "He cut her off when she tried one last time. He ignored her. He simply did something which he hoped would bring him back into the grace of his mother, that would find him a cure. And she was his ticket. The imagine of a small baby boy wrapped in a white blanket after they guided her through a difficult birth showed up in her mind. She looked at him lovingly, such a precious little person, new to the world. He had slept so silently…Izoreas. Riselle cried out loud, a mournful sound, thick tears dripping from her eyes now. She did not want to die!

Slowly Asathar read the runes he had scribbled on the piece of parchment out loud. It would set the travel spell of the scroll into motion. He did not get the chance to complete his entire spell. The last rune on the scroll was interrupted when he was jumped from behind. The dark shadow hovered over him when he fell, two huge paws laying on top of his shoulders as she pressed him against the ground with force.

As he fell forward Riselle fell as well, making an uncomfortable new meeting as she collapsed to the dry sandy ground around the tree.

The man grunted, trying to move, the scroll still held in his hand. The jaws that took grip of his neck were very clear. The growl made it a little clearer: move and be bitten. "Cursed wolf ...," he rasped angry when he felt the warm breath of the wolf in his neck. Riselles heart skipped a beat when she heard him curse the wolf.

Rena…

She heard him utter a spell to curse the wolf. Receiving a menacing growl. New tears ran down her cheeks, suddenly… there were options again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: The rescue**

With the string of his bow pulled back he aimed his arrow towards the man's head as he slowly approached. Riselles heart skipped a few beats when she truly heard the wolf growl at Asathar, who tried to curse her again. It had no effect on her.

The brown leather boots that silently stepped around her when he came from behind the tree could only match a pair of massive orc feet when he walked towards the spot where Asathar lay on the ground. Rena had her full weight on top of the elf. The man did not move, wisely.

Greymur stopped close to him, not close enough to give the elf any advantage. "HURIAS! Help Riselle!" The orc called out the command without taking his eyes of his target, his fingers keeping de bowstring tensed. From his disposition Asathar tried to glare at the orc with blue blazing eyes that would devour him to ashes if he could help it."It seems you have two pets orc, call off that stinking fleabag or yours and she may yet live to be your pet for another day!" he said, sounding angered. Greymur looked down on him. His face anything but sympathizing for this man.

Hurias hurried to Riselle. "I thought I was a dead person," she shrieked, her mouth dry and her limbs aching with the pain of her cramped muscles.

"You **ARE** a dead person Riselle! I promise you!" Came the hissing reply from Asathar. It made her tremble, Hurias could feel it when he touched her arm. He helped her up, cutting her free from the ropes with a small knife he carried. Riselle was so glad to see the young man she spontaneously flung her arms around him and embraced him. Hurias blinked uncertain for a moment before he grinned. His heart racing when she let him go a moment later.

"We're here now," he said, taking her hands into his as he squeezed them to give her comfort. Hurias only stared at her, this strange smile on his lips as he only nodded, still holding her hands in his.

"Quit your ranting Hurias, take her at least a couple of meters out of his reach. Warn the others we found her. It seems Zanak's invention was useful…for once," she heard Greymur grunt. So they did set out a search party for her after all. Riselle looked at the transmitter around her wrist, thanking the sun again and again they came. "Use the flare, they will know where we are," Greymur ordered Hurias.

Hurias urged Riselle to follow him. Riselle stared at the scene in front of her. Greymur with his arrow pointed to shoot Asathar in the head if he had to. Rena on top of the elf, her jaws around his neck to keep him down. Asathar cursed something in Thalassian at her, which roughly translated into 'burn whore' that made her look pale. Hurias heard it as well, frowning, his eyes fixed on the elf on the ground. She shook her head when he opened his mouth to say something. Instead he pulled her back and opened his bag to take out a long tube he put in the sandy ground. Pulling off the top it started to smoke instantly.

The puffs of bright red smoke that emerged every few seconds from the tube filled the early morning sky with a red damp above the tree top. She counted ten before it stopped and all that remained was white smoke to burn up any used powder inside the tube. She watched it burn out, wondering if it had done its job.

"I can smell your stench a mile away orc, you were lucky the wind was in your advance, or I would have killed you before you had the chance to sent your fleabag to do your dirty job," Asathar boasted. Greymur grunted in an unamused tone. "For an elf you sure are a noisy man. Maybe as noise as any goblin in Ratchet," he said in that same unamused tone. "Insolent creature…I….," the man hissed and wanted to look up. Rena barked a warning. Greymur looked down on him. "A word of advice...I would lay still if I were you, if you value your neck that is," the orc said as Rena snarled at the man, caused a strange snorts coming from the elf on the ground.

"Noble stature does not suit you orc! Honor must be something undervalued by your kin," the man said between a gurgle and a terrible cough in. Greymur gave him a half smirk. "Sure, your actions seemed very honorable, kidnapping the lady," Greymur mentioned. The man was silent for a moment.

"Honorable," Greymur agreed in an ironic tone. "**What do you know**! **NOTHING**! You are a watchdog housing a fugitive orc, did you know that?" The question meant to provoke him. "You're only so lucky your damned wolf sniffed us out," the man said sarcastically, trying to sound indifferent to the fact they were found after all. He tried to move his arm a bit more forward. Rena jaw clapped tighter around his neck when he moved. He uttered a painful cry when she did. She did not persevere the skin yet, but he probably had teeth marks in his neck by now.

"Rena at ease," he told his wolf. The she-wolf let go of his neck, placing her paw between the man's shoulder blades. It allowed the elf to get his head up in an uncomfortable way. The first thing he did was spit over Greymur's boots, black saliva dripping of the dark leather side. "**This** is what I think of you…._goblin dog!" _The hunter didn't give so much as a blink for the offence the elf tried to make. He could have kicked the man in the face for it, but that would be cruel. If he would still be in Twilight Highlands his commanding officer would have expected that from him. He would have been told off for not taking up the opportunity to do so. But this wasn't Twilight Highlands was it. This was Ratchet. Asalt did not look kind on people abusing prisoners, or he would have approved of Hazer's ways long ago.

Instead he looked at the elf, observing him. This was indeed the same man that threatened to club in his head when he was swinging that staff around. He also recognized him from Gazlowes office now.

When Hurias came back in panic earlier that night, holding the alarm-o-bot in his arms, blabbering something incoherent that didn't make sense and he saw the flashing headlight on the robots head, he knew things weren't right.

He felt guilty at first. Mostly because he allowed the two of them to take off in Ratchet, thinking it was alright for a moment to have her guarded by Rena and Hurias instead of watching her himself. It didn't take Asalt long to have somebody fetch him. The alarm had reached the headquarters by then. The knock on his door didn't exactly come as a surprise when he was rounded up for the search party. He had to give it to Asalt he was quick in arranging a search party, but it lacked discipline. An unorchanized chaotic bunch they were, keeping him up. It took them so much longer to start before they had a clue where to find her.

"So the goblins sent out their brave watchdog. Ironic isn't it. The grey watchdog keeps himself a wolf companion and has no clue what it is they want him to guard!" The way he said it made it sound as if he tried to make a joke. Not that Greymur considered it offensive, he only smirked at the try. Watchdog, guard, he had been called worse.

"Seems you have nothing to say for yourself? Maybe best if I get back at you eventually. But I'll honor you by dealing with you last, while she is watching if I can help it," Asathar told him when he did not respond. Greymur frowned. "Honorable," Greymur said again, chuckling this time. Wondering how the man would get out of this.

"I would think, considering you current situation, that it doesn't exactly give you rights to lay claims to what you plan to do," he gave it another thought, smirking slightly. "I don't see anything happening, seems to me you still have the disadvantage here," he told the elf. The elf snorted. "You have no idea what I'm capable off," the man said in a low tone. If the elf could look the orc in the face he would probably have been smiling in a vicious way. Greymur could only guess how dangerous this individual in front of him would prove to be, but he had a hunch.

Somewhere in the distance they heard the noise of a lot of loud persons, screaming, shouting, laughing, undoubtedly goblins who were making their way over. Now it was Greymur's turn to smirk.

"Do you hear that? That's the call of your escort," he said with a grin. The man let out a guttural cough. "As if I didn't escape their 'escort' before. You'll have to do better than that orc, they are no match for me," he heard the elf say, muffled by his head to the ground. He hoped for Asalts men their noise would drive away the raptors. It would not be the first time to result in agitated animals chasing the noisemakers he knew from experience. Most goblins were natural loud people by heart, or so he knew. Those who weren't usually were humble in their ways, reserved, timid perhaps. But looks could be deceiving.

The noisy group announce themselves soon enough. Seven they were. Some dressed in Bruiser gear, others in robes or normal clothes. Greymur looked at them, they looked like they were going for a bleeding picnic instead of a search party. One waved at him, he could see the wicked grin on the face of the man leading the party his way.

He sighed, being ever so glad he managed to talk Asalt around and allow him to go ahead. The group would meet up and warn the rest with flares if they found anything. Then he hurried Hurias to accompany him in finding Rena. It took a while before they found the wolf near the wharf. She was found by one of the bouncers, panting, tongue lolling from her jaws. She had been running as well. He figured she too had been caught by the spell Hurias had described. With Rena added to their party she picked up the scent easily enough. Wolves had keen senses he knew. Leading them to the hide out. There Greymur still had to wait for the right moment to sent out Rena. By then it already turned into morning and he had no idea what he was expecting to find when Rena caught Riselles sense.

"Do you really think that all this will stop me?" he heard the elf claim. "I do, for now," Greymur said. They were well prepared he knew, unorganized or not. "Then you are as stupid as your unworthy green cousins," the man said to Greymur. "Ha," the orc laughed while he glared at the elf. "First time I saw you I knew you meant trouble. Especially after I saw you swing around that damned staff of yours. When you came out of Gazlowes office I knew for sure you were a troublemaker," Greymur told him, keeping himself at ease as well. The man only snorted contemptuously after that. The hunter did not trust the elf, mostly because the man seemed to remain so calm under his circumstances. It almost irritated him.

"Bravo orc, you seem to be trained well enough to answer simple questions, they chose well in a bodyguard for Riselle I suppose," his voice thick with sarcasm. "I hope she was worth your trouble orc, because she is a lot of trouble, more than you can handle." Greymur shrugged. She told him something similar, and he didn't take it as a reason to ditch the job. The man seemed satisfied after giving him that information. Greymur wasn't impressed. "You know what elf, they are right, most elves mean trouble anyway, you're no exception," Greymur simply stated, to Asathars dissatisfaction.

"Your goblin boss should have known better. I offered him to deliver her to me instead of going through so much trouble trying to keep her safe. This will instantly make things worse for her and those who have nothing to do with this," he warned him. "Eventually we all get what we want ... it's only a matter of time," the man chuckled while he tried to look passed the booted feet into Riselles direction.

"Really? I think we will prove different," the orc said, raising his brow. "Do not try to be smart with me orc, I know now I may look defeated, but I will return. And then I will claim to what is mine," the elf said to him. Greymur glared down at him. "Perhaps it is time you shut your mouth," he advised him. Asathar coughed. He saw Riselle staying close to the youngster. She froze when she felt his stare into her direction.

Rena whined when she felt the man's limbs tremble as if he had an attack of some sort. He coughed so horribly Greymur was certain he was about to die. Instead the man recovered, spitting out mucus that came from the back of his throat. It looked slimy, trails of blood mixed into it. Greymur didn't flinch, but the elf seemed to be able to breathe better after that.

"It seems," he said with another one of those sudden sickening gurgles," that I have not counted my options," his remark was meant for her as his bright eyes nearly piercing through her when she dared to look into his direction. "I told you to shut up!" Greymurs tone suggests that he had little patience left. Asathar felt it was a shame that Greymur could not see the pitying look he was giving him.

"I do not think so." As the reply. The orc kneeled in front of the man, his arrow tapping the man's forehead. All he could see was this half faint grin on his face. Before realizing what he did the elf read the last rune aloud that was scribbled on his scroll. There was the sound of crumbling paper, a sudden magical disturbance that gave everybody goosebumps, it was setting a spell into motion. Greymur swore loudly when he realized that the man had done something.

"Mother always gets what she wants, sooner or later ...we will meet again!" While the scroll lit up, the runes burned while they faded away, readying the man for the irreversible magical travel jump he was about to make. The nasty laughter remained as he gloated over his triumph.  
>The wolf yelped when she felt the intense tingling of magic the spell caused. It seemed to consume the man's body. Greymur let go of his arrow, the wolf jumped up when the man dematerialized underneath her.<p>

He was gone…leaving the arrow to quiver in the ground where his head had been... missed .. the only thing that remained was the empty piece of parchment of the scroll itself. Leaving Greymur grunted loudly and swearing about anything he could think off because he had not been quick enough.

* * *

><p>The whole town of Ratchet seemed to be alive with strange stories Gazlowe noticed. Since the incident in the tavern it had been a little restless in his city. More like a madhouse lately. Though there had been murders before, unfortunate killings from a bar fight, injuries from an alley row. But it seemed the town was stirred by this incident.<p>

How he was in need of coffee to think about this in a straight way. Fortunately, his stern-looking assistant had kept a close eye on his coffee need.

He was also curious what Asalt had tell him. As the man stood in his office. Now the human hunter finally decided to talk there were a few things clearer. "What did he want?" Asalt looked frugal when he looked at Gazlowe. "A deal," Asalt said. Gazlowe ran his hands through his hair and then grabbed the mug where a final layer of dark goo was visible. It seemed Zef had not refilled it yet. "What kind of deal?" Gazlowe wanted to know. "I have promised him nothing yet,"Asalt said with a grin. "Or at least I have not given my word for it yet," he said cunningly.

In his hand he held the report he had written in response to Gazlowe about his talk with the hunter. "There are however a few things you might find interesting to hear," the Chef of the Bruisers mentioned. Gazlowe sat himself down, taking a big gulp of the dark goo while he shivered for a moment, looking horrified by the taste. The bottom of the coffee did not taste as good as fresh coffee. "Apparently, the hunter had two accomplices with him. They received a nice amount of money if they would bring a specific young woman to a specific person, listen to the description," Asalt said, reading back in his report to rephrase what the hunter had said. "Slender young woman, small, long brown hair," he read out loud, placing the report back on the table. "The specific person described as a rather agitated male elf. It is becoming a strange story isn't it boss," Asalt said honestly.

"I know exactly what you mean," Gazlowe agreed. But he had known that the moment he talked to the elf woman after she walked of the ship and into his office she had more to her then a case. She had a problem. A person in need she was, requesting refuge in Ratchet. He wasn't blind to that. Nor to the woman in her jade outfit with the large two handed sword on her back. He wasn't the worst of persons, but he could not offer her sanctuary in a neutral goblin town. She had hoped to find protection here from whatever it was she was fleeing from. Pleading her case to him he heard her, every detail. He could not offer her help in the way she requested. Helping out others in return for a small favor worked wonders he had found out over the years. But all he could do for her now was offer her the advantage of his neutral port. From here she could take a ship to another destination. He offered to sent her on her way to Booty Bay, Winterspring or even Gatgetzan. And she would be received with equal rights there. He would make sure of that.

Not the Horde nor the Alliance could lay claims to sides in neutral areas, not unless they had to. One could gain reputation with the town he had explained to her. There were many that worked for him and were not of goblin birth. They all earned themselves a status that gave them different rights. Like Greymur. Goblin neutrality guaranteed both factions to visit and make trade if they wanted. Or to seek whatever they wished to find. But he could not give her the refugee status. Not here. But if she resided in Ratchet, he told her, he could ask around for her case, with his contacts in Booty Bay. And if she was going to remain in Ratchet, she might wish to reconsider his offer of helping out when he had work for her. He could always find use for a well trained paladin he told her. Gazlowe never lacked work for others either.

He told her to take a room in the Broken Keel Tavern, if he had news he would make sure she would receive it.

After the incident in the tavern that night she got arrested and things became a little different. She pleaded her case to him again. Asking him to let her go. He could not do that ofcourse, not after what they found in the Broken Keel Tavern. And not with her involvement, accidental or not. She had been ashamed when she told him about things. The best thing he could do for her was what he had done so far. Leave her to the care of somebody who would do his job properly and protect her. Greymur seemed more then the right choice for that task, unwillingly as it now Asalt came back with news of the human hunter that had tried to feign his own death in the bathroom with the elf woman and the corpse. It became more complicated by the day.

"About that human, he told me a lot of things, too detailed to be a real lie, but you never know," Asalt said. He had told Asalt very precisely what he wanted to know. The way he described how they were approached by the elf, all the details up to the moment they left the room with the young woman in the care of the blond haired elf. They went downstairs, brooding on a plan to turn against him and rid the elf of the money he so carelessly showed. How they met up with 'a friend' who talked to them about some interesting facts. What were they after? Asalt had asked.

After being summoned back upstairs they were stuck with the body, and left with no money. Their plan to double cross him didn't work out very well after their rogue friend got the bright idea of stealing the armor of the woman in the bathroom where they dumped the body.

The job had been too easy the hunter had admitted. Too much money for such an easy job. He should have known it would get him into trouble. When Asalt had asked him to give a description of the assignment the elf had given him, the human hunter briefly gave him a description of the woman they had taken. The human hunter had found the elf quite obsessive the way he spoke of the woman. Being caught was the answer he said, he should have known there was a fishy smell to the offer the pink skin had for them. He should have directed him to Ratchet authorities instead. He described the elf as careless, aggressive, very nonchalant and sure of himself.

"What about this liquid he mentioned?" Gazlowe read in Asalt report. "He didn't have it on him, but Helbrim is running tests on the corpse for Adinna." Asalt remembered him. During the interrogation the human hunter described the result of the potion as if the woman had drank every different type of alcohol she could find in Ratchet, consuming it in less than ten minutes. After that she collapsed and they had to carry her. The hunter also mentioned the elf said she would be transported without problems and that it was all they needed to know. The human hunter had tried to convince Asalt all this had been a grave mistake. Business men like him would never get themselves involved into murder he assured him. He was lucky his Bruisers weren't Hazers jailors, or he would have had two black eyes after his interrogation.

The summary description written down in Asalts terrible handwriting said: Slender young woman, small, long brown hair Gazlowe read again. Presuming there would not be many of those around. "Add a pair of pointy ears and I think we have his match," Gazlowe said, Asalt nodded. "You talked to her after I had her collected from Hazer right?" he asked. Asalt nodded, he had dinner with her. "I used every courtesy I could find to make her feel she was with people she could trust," he declared. Asalt had observed her, like Gazlowe had instructed him to do. If he could make out anything new to her behavior. He could not make anything more of it then he had then. But that she was afraid of something and had enemies was sure.

"Those tree, they didn't do the woman any favors when they left her in the elfs care. After that she was dead he said," Asalt remembered. The Chief of the Bruisers had listened with contempt to the confession of the human hunter. How the man told him that his other friend lock picked the bathroom door to dump the dead woman in. Though the bathroom had been occupied. They found a naked woman in the tub that made threads for them to get out when they quickly came in. That she had a sword with her, that was a bit unexpected the human hunter had to admit. Asalt chuckled, nobody took a sword into the bathroom, not unless they expected something horrible. He had taken Riselle for a fool, but not anymore after this.

That she had proved to be a bit harder than his friend had thought was her rescue. It alarmed the innkeeper who alerted the Bruisers. It helped to put some of the pieces to the puzzle in their right place. "Whatever it is, it is no beautiful story," Gazlowe remarked with a shake of his head. Asalt agreed."What was the deal the human wanted?" Gazlowe asked eventually. His thoughts milled.

"He first wanted immediate release from prison, or at least community service. He was also ready to sell his friends out if that would help his case. But he mostly wanted our word we wouldn't hang him for the dead woman. Nor sent him off to Stormwind,"Asalt said with a sly smirk. "No SI:7 or Stockades," Gazlowe grinned. "Well, at least the man gave us some clarity on the incident in the tavern between the woman in the bathroom and the corpse we found," Asalt mentioned.

"Yes, now the question is ... what will we promise him in return?" The boss inquired. "Nothing yet. A saving promise, I told him. In which I would speak with you first. He still holds back information, I'm sure," he said, knowing the hunter was probably smart enough to play it dirty. "I need to puzzle with this information, but I'll figure it out. After that I will cut a deal with the human hunter," he heard Asalt say. Gazlowe nodded. "Where is the woman now? Cause I understood you had some trouble to take care off?" Gazlowe said.

"I have sent the orc out for that," he mentioned. "And a group of my Bruisers to take care of the trouble," he said. "Any further plans?" Gazlowe asked as Asalt shrugged. He did not know. But it was a complicated matter still. "Anyway, I'll have Greymur and his pretty friend come in for a talk afterwards," Asalt said to his boss before he took off.

It left enough for Gazlowe to ponder about.

Zef had been standing in the corner, in his hand he held a large mug of coffee. Gazlowe saw him standing there, looking over his half cut goggles. "Ah, coffee," he mentioned as Zef gave him the large mug with a grin. Coffee…he needed more coffee to ponder more over this trouble.

* * *

><p>With a bright green flash he materialized in one of the side rooms of their summer mansion. He struggled to breathe thanks to the intense magic that had moved him home again.<p>

A year ago it would have given him a kick to feel the surge of such magic. Today it provided him with more miserable side effects then he could use. Trembling limbs were one of them. As well as feeling tired. It did not help him forget he had a problem. Knowing very well he was finding it increasingly difficult to not become aggressive while doing small things that involved magic. It agitated him on the edge between reason and simply giving into a barbaric lust to slam somebody's head in.

It made him feel fearful to realize he was losing grip over himself. That he was very dependent on the use of siphoning magic or draining somebody's energy for his own needs to keep control over his own handling. He felt his heart pound heavy in the temples of his head as he breathed deeply and gurgling.

The predominant smell of the flowers in the floating pots was almost sickening for him when he balanced himself and leaned against the wall of the round chamber. Like most chambers in the elf architecture most building were round. Floating flower or plant pots were one of the many characteristic and magical decorations found in many houses. But the floating pots were the only decoration in this room, as this space was mainly used to create portals when mother needed it. Or providing a silent way to visit, away from prying eyes of any servants if any 'guests' should arrive and be escorted. Now he was apparently the only one who returned here.

"I thought it was you," he heard somebody behind him say. Asathar did not have to turn around to know who it was. "I would really swear that you are starting to look worse … little brother, more freak then brother," the remark came from his older brother, who was leaning himself in the doorway. The short spiky hair of the man styled in near perfection, mostly to Asathars annoyance. "Give me a crystal and spare me your comments," he said, sneering. Feeling his trembling limbs. His brother only smirked.

"Perhaps you should have taken up on meditation like those other idiots ... instead of going over the top the way you did," he said, looking as if he was almost truly sorry for his younger brother.  
>"<strong>Give me a freaking crystal ... NOW<strong>!" the commanding tone was answered with a shaking head from his brother.

"Go and see that damned alchemist of mothers, he will probably still has something lying around that you can suck out," the arrogant tone in which he said it only irritated Asathar more. "This can also happen to you …_**dear**_…_**brother," **_Asathar warned him grimly. Lohurin could not control himself and burst out in a spontaneously hysterical laughter when his younger brother said that. He laughed at his brother in a sadistic tone. Asathar wished he could hit his brother in the face.

"I do not worry about things like that, because I have been assigned with a different job. Where you ... never mind you dear brother," Lohurin said with a snort. "Mother will make sure that it won't happen to me," he claimed with a devious smile. How Asathar wished to wipe that confident smirk off his face. It made him furious. "I would not count my victories yet, it happened to others that thought they were save the humiliation of becoming this. Siphoning too much arcane magic from any alternative sources can still turn you into one of them…as we all noticed," he said wry.

"Yes, it does not help your appearance does it?" Lohurin noted dryly. Asathar rolled his eyes when his handsome brother stroke his hand over his hair. Asathar was handsome once, not anymore. And not a day went by where he was not reminded of that.

"Why don't you stick to what you do so well," he said, eying his brother. "Especially since you've already 'accomplished' so much with your wife! All mother seems to do of late is clean up after you. Which leaves me stuck with the dirtiest job of all," he said, the sides of his thing lips pulling down. Asathar spat a piece of black slime to the ground. Lohurin wrinkled his nose to it. "Now you are being plainly rude…dear brother! I am very capable of cleaning up my own mess. Mothers ways are…handier," Lohurin said.

"Handier? You think mothers little rituals are convenient don't you? You and your stupid goons. Is there any hole you won't stick your member in?" Asathar didn't wish to know, but he knew it would hurt Lohurin's feelings. Anything to make him stop smirking. "As I recall those rituals mother does do not only solve my problems dear brother," Lohurin said, narrowing his eyes. Asathar looked at him. "What do you mean?" Lohurin merely smirked again, satisfied he seemed to have knowledge about something his brother did not.

"No telling you is too easy. It would defeat the purpose of having you know everything that goes around here dear brother. Let's just say that during your absence mother came up with a new trick. You're such a smart ass, you go and find out for yourself what mother does in her private cavern with that cult of hers and my little problems. You will see it's all in your benefit as well. And who sais I do not look out for my little brother? You should be grateful me and my 'goons' have the lust you lack," he grinned. "You be a good little brother and stick to your end of the deal with mother and everything will be alright," Lohurin snickered. Asathar stared at him, curious.

"Then I advise you to start performing and produce what the monster requires, or she will not forgive nor clean up after you anymore. Perhaps you should try to woo Anayis a bit more instead of forging her, you might get what you want sooner," Asathar said, feeling bitter. Reminding Lohurin about their mothers explicit wish. "Brother ... brother... you make it sounds so nasty! It's your own stupid fault that you're assigned to these tasks, as you cannot do what I still can. But you could have stopped yourself from turning into this monstrosity you seem to become more and more everytime I meet you. You could have made a difference for yourself," Lohurin said in a triumphantly way.

"You're no different," Asathar sneered again. Lohurin flexed his muscles, while challenging his younger brother by glaring at him in a specific way.

"A man can only do what a man does best, wouldn't you agree... dear brother? I'm good with women ... you are good at hiding in the shadows nowadays. Oh no wait…you are good at something! You're the best at stealing mana and energy from others I heard," he joked and stroked his well shaved face casually. Asathar growled. "_I will hurt you someday…if it is only to wipe that grin pasted to your face _," Asathar promised him almost inaudibly. Lohurin laughed out loud now.

"What was that brother? Duty calls you say? What excellent timing you have. It seems I have to collect Anayis from the pit mother dumped her in again this morning after their little chat, seems she is in a foul mood…and it seems the alchemist is calling for you to visit…you better not let our nice forsaken wait..he might get impatient with you. Then again, you would not want mother to get impatient? You know she does not like to be waiting," he said, half laughing before he left the room. Asathar saw him walk away.

"Anayis will have your head and that of our mother on a silver plate if she ever gets out of here," Asathar called after him.

"Anayis knows better than to displease mother… as should you!" he heard Lohurin yell back at him down the hallway. Asathar gritted his teeth. There were moments he felt sorry for Anayis. But he could not always rely on his old feelings. Not now his transformation seemed to speed up. If there was one thing he knew it was she did not deserve this, nor had any of the others. But there were also the moments he did not care about anything anymore, only to think about his own needs. Such as now. Some day…he kept telling himself.

He went off to the damned alchemist.

The alchemist also brought release for the moments he needed it so badly. The man always kept a secret stack of magic imbued crystals in his laboratory. One of the few things he appreciated about the man. As Asathar walked on his wobbly legs around the huge house in the direction of the west wing, he realized he could make it easier. But with using the orb of translocation to transport him from one end to the other end of the house it would also made him instantly have to deal with more side effects of the magic he would have used. So he saved himself some unnecessary trouble, glad the alchemist was not stationed in the tower of the house.

The man was located in the west wing of the huge house. His laboratory on the second floor. One window gave a view of the ever preserved healed woods of Eversong Forest, which was always shrouded in eternal fall. And the other window giving the discouraging scene of the deathscar. A large strip of dead-burned country that went straight on to the very gates of where now lay the ruins of the old city of Silvermoon. A gift left behind by that accursed scourge. Even now there were still remnants of them on the deathscar, reminding them of the invasion that had led to the destruction of the glorious first city. Even though the new Silvermoon was rebuild next to the ruins of the old city, it still left a bitter aftertaste that their civilization had fallen so deep.

Although with the deathscar so close to your doorstep it also offered opportunities.

By the time he opened the creaking door to the laboratory, he was glad he had not taken the orb. If he had a manawyrm to drain or to tap into a crystal he would need all his concentration to feed his addiction from it. Siphoning required focus. He did not want to use the last of his precious energy to fight for the many side effects that made him spasm and gurgle more than usual.

"Ah ... the youngest brother... I thought I heard somebody emerge in the portal room earlier," the sepulchral voice was almost motionless. The man had emotions, but he used them in a rather strange way. Although the man no longer gave him the jitters when he looked at him. The forsaken alchemist looked even worse than Asathar did. Several of his body parts were half decomposed by the decaying state in which he would always wander about. Not that he could help it.

Cursed from the moment he was raised from his grave and brought back to his unloving state of life again in Undercity made him wander around in this decaying state. His gray hairs peaking out of his scalp where large gaping holes were showing in his skull. Asathar could never discover if the man still had a brain in there or not, though he presumed he did, or he would have dealt with a deranged version of a forsaken instead. The deathscar was full of them.

"A crystal, perhaps?" he inquired in a monotone voice, accompanied by a sinister grin. He played with a small crystal between his fingers. Asathar could almost could feel the magic circle around in it. Almost smell it. He grabbed the crystal out of the hands of the forsaken, ready to empty its stored magic at the first crack.

It felt amazing! First there was the chill of the earliest touch, feeling the magic spreading through his limbs. It warmed him like a fire. A renewed boost of energy overwhelmed him while all the tiredness fled from his body. Leaving his heart to stop beating so fiercely and his limbs from trembling. The world looked bright again when he drained the crystal, tapping into its stolen magic. Siphoning every bit of it into his system. Receiving the kick of the vibrations over and over again with every sip he took. The energetic aftertaste left a tingled sensation in his head. It was almost like devouring a good meal.

His brother would have compared it to a good night of heavy sex. One where he would let his dominating side roam free, not caring whether his partner would experience pleasure or not. But sex was something Asathar hardly have anymore. Not only because he was ashamed of his own appearance. There was always the lurking sensation of the wretched side that tried to force its way out. By now he was in the phase where he could no longer pretend he did not suffer from turning into one. His skin seemed to be thinner lately, filled with sudden holes. He did not dare to show others he was starting to…rot? Disgusted about the idea of decaying alive he tried to stop giving into his addiction. But could not. It made him aggressive if he deprived himself from siphoning magic, unable to control himself he found out. The need to hurt somebody was great when he was in that state.

Ofcourse he tried to do feed his desires in other ways, giving into a night of fun with some of the unwilling victims who 'remained' here in the mansion. Those who made their unfortunate entrance in his mother's home. The last time he tried it he ended up cursing himself when he could not perform. Although sexual harassment never had been his thing, his readiness wasn't what it used to be when he was still healthy. He remembered how Riselle had gasped at him in disgusted awe when she realized he was her old classmate. That had been long after he started to change.

Riselle and him used to be semi friends. Never too close to share a lot of personal information and to distained from each other to realize if the other had a problem or not. They simply studied together. Asathar always liked Riselle. She was smart, had a sweet voice and was nice to look at. He wished he had known more about her then…perhaps then he could have been the one that would have been there for her. Undoing her night of drinking and ending up with his brother.

Although he had been aware of his brothers escapades he would never have guessed that Riselle and him ended up in bed together. How he wished he could have been the one she would have shared her problems with, but she didn't. When he was still healthy…he might have saved her from his brothers clutches.…leaving his mothers deranged idiotic ideas of that explicit wish she uttered to her sons.

But it was too late now.

Now he could no longer show his face without wearing the hood of his cloak. Not around Silvermoon. Even here at the boundaries with Ghostlands he did no dare to walk uncovered when he would go out in the woods.  
>In Ratchet it was different, mainly due to the multicultural crowd that did not seem to notice him. He cursed the port in his mind while he emptied the crystal of its last magical content.<p>

Feeling renewed for the moment.

"Perhaps you might find it interesting to hear that I have made some new progress with one of the elixirs I have worked on," the man said out of nowhere. Asathar looked at him doubtfully. "With one of the ... subjects," the alchemists' half-baked grin predicted little good. "Someday there will be an idiot who no longer is stupid enough to believe that his family was killed on that cursed deathscar," he heard Asathar say.  
>"Perhaps young master, very possible. But until that time we will use the resources we have ... that provide us with travelers that will never return home alive. It is indeed a very sad case ... for their family," the alchemist laughed dry. "But it's for a certain charity shall we say? And I may say that they provide excellent test subject sometimes," the man grinned in a monotonous tone.<p>

Asathar knew it wasn't only travelers that suffered the faith the alchemist talked about. Lately it were also the 'problems' provided by Lohurin and his lust that kept in the basement of the mansion. Mother took care of them all. Most of them were meaningless young girls from low born families. Mother didn't bother to offer gold to them. Peasants she called them, meaningless cattle. Test subjects, he added in his mind.

They were brought down to the basement, into her cavern, where her cultist locked themselves in for days. Doing who knows what.

Ofcourse not all of Lohurin's bed partners had been lowborn. He could not use the negative attention if one of them would complain. He would lose his status as a Champion. Champions were the protectors of Silvermoon. People looked upon them with respect, they were the first the people turned to in time of need. Or so they always made him believe when he was a young boy.

Lohurin made a proper shining Champion. But Lohurin could also not control his urge, nor his desire for women. Some of his mistakes included bedding those of better families. And those threatened to speak to the council. They were all summoned by mother, one by one, to cut a deal and keep them silent. They were bought off with gold. She silenced those who would not be convinced. Riselle would have been silenced if she did not carry Lohurin's bastard.

"Young master?" The alchemist asked him. Asathar let his train of thoughts slip as he gazed at the forsaken. "What have you found?" Asathar still wanted to know. Secretly hoping for great news. "I have been experimenting with the forbidden plants and added some of it to the sleeping elixir. You should see the effects young master. Your mother wished me to test it on one of the subjects. It instantly granted the drinker a dreamless sleep, the man never felt anything during the ritual," he announced, almost sounding thrilled. Asathar wondered what had taken place during his absence.

"Ritual? What ritual?" Was that what Lohurin meant?

"Why have I not been informed?" He looked bitter. "Best go and speak to your mother young master, she has things she wishes to discuss with you in private. You would not want to keep her waiting," he said, his jaw cracked when he tried to smile. He looked terrible when he smiled.

The man knew things, his mother had not hired him for nothing. He was involved in finding a cure for his addiction. But why it had to be a forsaken? His mother would not tell him. Like she would not tell them many things.

He would not question her. That was the promise he made when she offered him her protection. She made him an oath to find a cure for him that would return him to his old self again. He had not right to question her about how she was going to do that. She made him a deal, sealed with her own blood. It was the only way for him to believe her.

He wanted to believe her. Every word she promised him when they brought him back to her after they found him on the deathscar. That his part of that deal was to return Riselle to his mother was something he could have guessed when he signed his part of the deal in blood. If he wanted hopes for a possible cure he would do what needed to be done. And since he was the cause of Riselles escape he was the one to get her back. To make right what he did wrong.

"Your mother is expecting your return, perhaps you would like a crystal for after your talk?" The man offered a red crystal to him. Asathar took it without saying anything. Preparing for his climb up to her chambers he could use it he supposed. She would expect him to report back to her instantly. He would not tell her all he knew he decided. Or he would have to face her wrath of why he did not take her back with him. Not something he could use right now. He needed more time.

Motivation wasn't his greatest virtue anymore. Not since he changed. Life was too short for that if you didn't have an eternity anymore. An eternity as a wretched, that was what he was. Not what he wanted.

But his mother was motivated. Her drive was family, fortune and favor. Whatever that meant to her. She would not tell him what she needed Riselles bastard for when he asked her. It wasn't all about being a grandmother that was sure. Expanding the family meant that all the far away cousins could never get their greedy little hands on the Whitemorn fortune. And the favor, he didn't know what she meant by that, but she seemed to have a specific reason for that.

Asathar didn't care much for that knowledge. But their obsessive mother did.

"Has there been any other discoveries you managed to find while testing the potions?" He asked, hoping for better news, stalling his visit to his mother. The forsaken alchemist sighed as he took a few bottles from the rack on the table. Holding one over a fire. When the dark red liquid started to bubble he chuckled. Asathar looked at the man's back, bones of his spine sticking out through his robes. So far the man had come up with little that could help him. In any case, not the things he did not already know. He did not hate the man anymore, only when he was on the edge.

"Well?" The forsaken said, turning around and sighing. "No proper cure for your health yet, young master, but everything helps. It just seems I need to experiment a bit more," the man said with a cruel grin and turned away from Asathar again. Nothing…again.

The alchemist never heard him leave, as he was engaged in a bottle of dark red colored liqueur which he held over the small fire again. Mixing it with another one turned it into a murky purple-looking substance. It smelled of rotten eggs when Asathar closed the door.

Asathar left for his mother's chambers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: A little trust**

Before he entered he took one last deep breath before he knocked on her door. Two Whitemorn guards stood like statues on each side of the door. That mostly meant his mother did not wish to be disturbed.

"She's expecting me," Asathar said to one of the silent guards. They never did so much as nod. They didn't move. He wondered how people could chose a profession like that. When he was a student scribe he loathed the moments his master demanded him to stand still and listen to the endless bored talk he was taking notes of. His master always wanted him to take notes, if only to learn from it. At the end of the day the man requested a copy of the notes he had taken. He had been ever so grateful to get his official title of scribe being presented with an official quill and parchment. He still had them, hidden away in his room somewhere.

His handwriting used to be good, before he started to turn into what he became now. His mother had taken pride in his title as a scribe. When he was healthy she used to make him write down the new spells she conjured. Or the way a ritual was done. He used to love doing that, working with magic. It was something he shared with his mother, unlike Lohurin who held little passion for magic. Even though his abilities were excellent, he was simply too lazy to do something with it.

Whatever happened between him and his mother went far deeper then what it was now before it went wrong. After that he was summoned like he was part of the servants.

When was the last time he stood before this very door? He could not recall. But here he was, after the long climb up. Standing in front of the large wooden doors that gave access to his mothers chambers. The door was made of thick wood, carved with a scenery of a couple of magi that performed a ritual. According to his mother they were supposed to resemble great mages from his father's family line, but she did not know them by name. He did not remember his father very well. Last memories he held of the man were that of a blond haired man with a quill in his hand, sitting at a desk when his mother took him up to see him. Asathar didn't have a face to match the blond haired man with. Not that he cared. The man died long ago, long enough for him to not remember him.

The only person that was always there was his mother. That he would grow to despise his own mother he never would have thought. But he did.

At least his hands didn't tremble anymore before he finally knocked the great wooden door.

Lilah Whitemorn sat at a writing desk. A small elegant piece of furniture that suited the decoration in the room. A woman with expensive taste no doubt. Her focus on the page of a large book, a long elegant finger laid at a specific part of the page. In her other hand a writing quill and a piece of parchment. She did not bother to look up when he entered.

She left him standing there, mumbling something to herself. The runes in the book lit up softly when she pronounced something from the page. He saw she smiled, in her element with the result. After the stopped whispering the word the glowing stopped as well. Her smile fainting from her face when she finally looked at him. Cold hard eyes gazing at him.

"You look terrible," was the first thing she said to him. He did not say anything. "And your writing skills would have been handy right now," she spoke to him in an accusing tone. "Yes, well, I do not seem to have that touch anymore now do I, mother?" He held up his withered hands, the ghostly white extremities with the sharp black nails. They would be more useful for digging a hole. "All that can be restored," she said, the cold smile didn't reach her eyes. "As you say mother," he agreed.

"Did you find her?" He waited for a moment, if only to keep her anticipating for the news that would either bring her relief or would make her more angry. "I saw her," he said. Her eyes flickered for a moment. "You…saw her? Where is she? Did she have the baby with her?" His mother stood up, the fabric of her robes softly rustling behind her as she moved. "I only saw her mother, from a distance," he said, noticing the twitching sides of her mouth. It gave him a good feeling to see her annoyed like that. He smiled deviously.

She hit him on his cheek with her flat hand. It didn't hurt him as much as she wanted. But it knocked him off his feet for a moment.

"**Do not mock me**!" she hissed at him. Asathar got back on his feet again, grateful for the crystal he used earlier. "**You should have done more than just look at her! You should have brought her back you infidel!**" she cried out at him.

"And what was I to do in a neutral zone mother? Tie her up and walk out of there?" His voice was steady, which was good, because he didn't want her to think she had any control over him. At least not in an emotional way. "A neutral zone?" His mother seemed to think the matter over for a moment. "What was that little wench thinking when she went to a neutral zone! Which one?" The woman did not ask, she demanded. Something that had vexed him for a long time.

"Booty Bay," he said, never taking his eyes of her when he told her the lie. "Booty Bay?"She sounded doubtful when she heard him say it, looking at him in a specific way. "Booty Bay," he repeated his lie to her. The mother did not seem entirely convinced by her son. "Ask any of the spies about goblin neutrality and they will agree you cannot barge in there and take somebody against their will," he told her. The mother looked more sour then before.

"Smart girl," she said bitter. "So our spies confirmed they saw her?" He nodded. It seemed to take her doubt away a little when he seemed more convinced. "Good, then we will make a plan to take her the moment she sets foot out of that neutral zone. She will not be protected then. I will contact our people and tell them to shadow her. I will sent your brother to collect her there," his mother put her hands together, like she always did when a plan formed in her pretty head. Asathar looked at her, smiling courteous at her. "You still do not trust me to bring her home do you?" He asked her. The cold look she gave him told him enough.

"If it weren't for your actions we still would have had the baby," she sneered. Asathar made a soft cough to ease his throat from the urging gurgles that wanted to come out instead. No matter what she always rubbed in that failure when it came up. "What do you plan to do with the little bastard anyway?" he wanted to know, "Nevermind that! I want that child. And I want the mother, if only to punish her," his mother said with a strange look on her face. Asathar didn't shake his head like he wanted to. Whatever she wanted with the child it seemed of great importance to her.

"You should have remained where you were, contacting us from there," it sounded more accusing then the tone she started out with. "I was out of crystals and options to fill my needs mother. Do you know how tight security is there? They will know when somebody died," he countered her. She did not say anything to that. "All the more reason to sent your brother," she agreed.

"I disagree. Lohurin would spent his time in every brothel he could find and lose track of Riselle. I can handle this better than Lohurin. After all I have been the one tasked to bring her back. Wasn't that part of you made with me, mother?" She turned away from him, something she did when she was angered and didn't want to show him. "Let me contact our people mother." He smiled at her, amused to see her like that.

"You must be tired. Besides, your brother is much more capable of bringing her back then you are right now, at least in the current state you are in," he was told. He needed to refrain himself from laughing, she really didn't trust him. Not that he could blame her for that. It amused him more and more. "You should not concern yourself with my part of the bargain mother, you should worry about translating that page," he said, pointing at the thick book on her writing table. She stared at him for a moment, suspiciously.

"That is the book the alchemist mentioned, isn't it?" She slowly nodded. "He should not have told you about that. I wanted to speak to you about it myself," she said. "What does it do?" he wondered. She glared at him, the long lashes of her eyes making it look like she had her eyes closed for a second. "Nothing worth trying yet. Since I have not been able to translated it properly. All I know is that it could possibly hold a ritual I was searching for," that was all she said. It made her nervous he realized. Keeping secrets was her thing, as always.

"We will talk about your part of the deal later. You can go now," she insisted instead.

"All I need is to regain my strength a bit, after that I'm good to go," he assured her. She looked doubtful again. "You should have prepared yourself better. Taken enough crystals with you. We will talk about this tomorrow morning after breakfast." She smiled in a strange way, shoving him towards the door again. If she had powers to freeze people with that smile she would have many dead by now. "I will probably see you for a late lunch, mother, I need to sleep," he mentioned. "Whatever you need to do," she said, waving him away. Before he knew it he stood on the other side of the door again. The talk ended much earlier than he expected. All the better when he went down the long walk back.

* * *

><p>"I really have to go!" she whispered at him. He knew exactly what kind of going she meant. And it wasn't the one that involved a bush. She insisted on the urge of it. Up to now he had not opened his mouth to say anything, but she could see his lips purse together in an angry stripe. His teeth gritting nastily. The small sized tusks that grew from the sides of his mouth seemed dangerous when he looked so angered.<p>

"Greymur…please? You have no idea what she is capable of," Riselle urged him again. He grunted a curse under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. She could not completely translate what he said, but she knew the majority of it. Hurias was quiet, wise enough to not interfere with the grey orc and the blood elf right now. She went as far as to take one of his hands in hers. Squeezing it firmly in hopes of a less aggressive reaction from his side. His fingers were rough, his nails broken. She could feel de fierce pulse of his heart through his wrist when she gently laid her other hand on his huge arm. The muscles tensed.

"Run away and I will sent Rena after you!" Was the first reaction he gave to her plea. She stiffened, shocked by his response. Her face troubled. "I can't let you run off," he told her firmly. She wanted to say something, but he stopped in front of her, blocking her ways so she bumped her head into the thick leather of his chest piece. The sharp nails scratched her cheek. "Do I need to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to Ratchet? Or will you walk quietly?" He eyed her, making known to her he clearly had no patience right now. He shook off her hands.

"Greymur ... please ... you don't understand ...I have to escape, they will hurt you if I do not escape... please," she grabbed his burly arm again, trying to move him into her direction with shaking hands now. "Let me go, please? I do not wish you to get hurt, none of you," she begged him with tears in her eyes when he looked at her. "Riselle," he pronounced her name again, getting used to not adding miss in front of it. The tone exaggerated when he pronounced it. Her large emerald green-colored eyes looked at him in hope. "We're going back to my house first, then talk to Asalt. And then I would love to hear the real reason why you truly walked into Ratchet," he repeated himself.

She let go of him. Her arms dangling to the sides as he took a step back from her. The first tears trickled from the corners of her eyes down her cheeks when she realized he was not going to let her walk away like that.

"Please, Greymur, it is for the benefit of all three of you. You...Rena and Hurias, I do not want anything to happen to you," he had trouble looking at the woman with the tears in front of him. The last woman he had truly known had cursed him for the rest of his life after she burst out in tears when he would not do what she asked him. And she asked him an impossible thing. He never wanted her to hate him, but he had to do what was right. Not was she expected from him. He did not want to be reminded of the moment he chose to sink down the lines and end up like a grunt in the ranks of nothingness that seemed to exist in his clan. Drahin never laid eyes on him again after that. And his commanding officer was always shaking his head in a mocking way when he looked at Greymur, telling him that it was a shame a man like him chose to show weakness like that.

He growled, aggressive. Still reminded of the look that hated him for the rest of his life. Her eyes had been different though. Riselles eyes were green, hers had been pale red, both held a form of corruption. Unlike his own. This wasn't her, this was Riselle he was facing, not Drahin. The situation not even similar, the plea perhaps the same. It hurt his throat when he tried to swallow, it clogged his reason, his thinking. He could not handle a crying and pleading woman, not now.

Hurias stared at Riselle, thinking it was almost pathetic to see her like that. He turned away in mere shame of the sight of her tears. No blood elf woman should plead like that he thought. But she did.

Greymur pulled himself together, taking a deep breath before he looked at her again. She hung her head. A desperate sign he figured, it made more sense. He didn't know her full story yet, but he would. In time she would understand his reasons perhaps, now she needed to accept he was responsible for her.

For Hurias it seemed contradicting. She had shown to be a sophisticated woman until now. Being very much at ease, relaxed even, eyeing what was hers to deal with. He hoped he was right about his feelings and she would understand his motions of him turning his head for now.

Riselle herself did not pay him much thought. She seemed to be staring at Greymur's back more than worrying about Hurias. Rena barked, pushing her nose into Riselles hand. She patted the wolf on her head, thankful for the distraction. A goblin passed her, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He stopped next to Greymur. "Hey Greymur, what happened to that other elf?" Wrench had to walk faster to catch up with Greymur and his large steps. The group of Bruisers was a bit disappointed that they had missed out on the action. Especially because they were so well prepared. Greymur had wanted to send them back when they finally arrived. All they had seen was the flash of light and heard the orc curse his lungs out.

"You sure it's alright to have her walk loose like that? I mean, being criminal and all? If you need cuffs or anything I have taken those with me for precaution," Wrench said and patted his large shoulder bag. Greymur shook his head. He had no need for cuffs for Riselle. He was quite capable of keeping the elf woman in tome and monitor her on the way back. Riselle was obedient, she would not escape. Not with the promise of an arrow between her eyes if she did. Rena kept her company, for the better perhaps.

"Is she really that dangerous?" Wrench asked him in a low tone of voice. The whole Bruiser headquarters stood upside down when the alerm game in. At least they knew the alarm system worked properly. Greymur looked at the Bruiser. "Now is not the time Wrench," he told him. Wrench only nodded, watching the orcs expression as he looked over his shoulder at Riselle. "Problems with…the missus perhaps? Lovers quarrel?" Wrench asked, winking at him in a curious way. Greymur didn't asnwer that. "The guys want to know," he answered, knowing the rest of the Bruisers were almost exploding with curiosity. Greymur didn't asnwer his curiosity.

"I would not mind having a missus like that," the goblin said with a sly grin, quietly pointing over his shoulder. The whack he got on top of his head with the wooden staff was hard. "**Wrench Screwpot**!" she cried out to him when she finally stopped next to him. "You keep your wicked thoughts away from that elf woman! She is not yours to deal with do you hear me! Asalt better not ever appoint you to a task like that or I will hit him on top of his head as well and make sure I leave a mark in that empty skull of his!" Wrench grinned sheepishly when he saw his wife, Muncha Screwpot. He was already feeling a lump coming up on top of his head.

"Muncha, my shiny coin, I was only advising Greymur here about…ehm…the missus…you know…a little advise…," he said, excusing himself. Muncha was not so happy with his poor excuse. "I came out of my bed for you because you were in need of a healer and because the girl was missing! As far as I can judge that is a girl in tears, not a top criminal like you described her to me!" She eyed the silent elf woman behind them. "I'm very certain Greymur does not need advise concerning that poor thing! At least not from you and your wicked thoughts!" She held her staff up to Wrench with a threat. He ducked, but she did not hit him.

Greymur could not help but smirk about the little display of the married couple. Suddenly Jeri and Jatfast were missed.

The rest of the trip was done in silence. He was glad they eventually passed between the stones that indicated they were back on Ratchet grounds again. Meaning he was officially in charge of her within Ratchet grounds and was allowed to offer her escort her around without the group of Bruisers sticking to his bum. Most Bruisers went their way to his relieve.

"Seems Wrench needs protection as well," Hurias said after they parted ways, feeling sorry for Wrench when he saw Muncha whack him on top of his head with her wooden staff again as they walked down the road. Greymur chuckled darkly. "Or he simply loves a dominant woman," Greymur remarked dryly. Hurias raised his slender eyebrows. Hurias still did not understand goblins very well. He would perhaps in time, he was not going to explain it to the young man.

He still needed to report back to Asalt.

* * *

><p>Hurias was silent during their absence. The whole house was silent, besides for the bubbling cauldron of stew Greymur started at late last night. The young man welcomed the silence for a change. It gave him time to let his thoughts run over what had happened. About his feelings. What he had seen, how she looked at him.<p>

When they walked back he had offered her his hand, for comfort. But she would not take it. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her, her expression strange. He wanted to do something for her. All she told him was to let leave her alone. That was not what he wanted.

He wanted to tell her he would be the one protecting her from whatever was out there, not Greymur. Realizing he wanted to be more then important for her. Yet he had little to offer her besides poorly trained in arms. Unlike the grey burly orc, who seemed to be one with his weapon. It left Hurias to feel like a failure. With a sad sigh he poured himself a strong alcoholic mug of ale he found in one of Greymur's kitchen cupboards. All he could do now was wait until they would return.

Hoping his better judgment would not make him regret saying things that were lying on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

><p>"It is a good thing you came back out of your own free will lady, or you might have been in more trouble then you realized," Asalt scolded her. She wanted to crawl into a dark hole. "People will get hurt if I stay here," she said, persistent about the matter. "She's back now, Gazlowe won't blame her for something she could not help. The elf took her, she never crossed the lines on her own," Greymur said, pleading in her favor. Asalt chewed his flavored gum, he smelled like chemical apples.<p>

They both knew the elf was in trouble, exactly how much trouble they didn't know. "Suppose we would let you go, where would you run off to?" he asked her. She folded her shoulders. She didn't know where she would run to. "You wouldn't last one second out in this terrain. Not in that outfit, nor barefoot and not without knowing the dangers," he said.

"What would you do?" she asked in a soft tone. Asalt looked at both of them. "It is not a matter of what I would have done, it is a matter of what you will do. Because this is your situation. And you almost screwed it up for yourself by doing the one thing I asked you not to do," he reminded her. The trust issue he had discussed with her, she blushed furiously. "If they would catch you after you fled you would have risked a lot more trouble around here I can assure you. I do not think Gazlowe would still find you credible for trust anymore after that," he stated. Riselle blushed more. Greymur wondered how much more Asalt knew about it, but from the conversation more than he did. Riselle knew enough about honor to hear what he said. She would not betray Gazlowes trust, but she could not stand about and do nothing. She cursed her education and the amount of honesty they taught her during her lessons when she was trained.

"You will mention to Gazlowe she has returned with us?" Greymur insisted. Asalt shrugged. "Sure, I will speak in her favor," he told Greymur. If this was his clan then Riselle would never have survived the punishment for desertion. Even though things worked different here, he found goblins could be equally cruel if they wanted.

"Now go home you two, be sure you don't let her out of your sight. And have Zanak check that alarm system to see if the transmitter still works properly," Asalt sent them off. Greymur was grateful they were left off like that. Leaving the headquarters behind as they walked out of the Dark Alley. She was tired, he could see it in the way she walked. She did not speak, nor did she look at him. He did not say it bothered him she did not speak to him when they returned to his house. But it did.

When they found Hurias moping over his sixth mug of ale it made him worry to find the elf in a drunken state. He seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes open as his head was laying on the table. "Go home Hurias," Greymur told him. The young man looked at Riselle, feeling brave. "I want to hear about everything, I have a right to know!" he demanded. His eyes fixed on her. "No Hurias, you don't, this is not your problem, you were never involved to begin with," Greymur said.

"Yes I was! It became my problem as well when you sent me off with her!" Greymur knew he was partly right. "You were supposed to show her the stones, not take her on a sightseeing trip through the port," the grey orc pulled out a couple of more mugs and poured what was left of the ale in the two mugs. Riselle drank it without refusing it. Hurias muttered something unitelligent. "She could have mentioned the angry boyfriend," he complained in his drunken state. Lurking at Riselle over his mug.

"That was not my boyfriend!" Riselle gave him a fierce look that made him keep his mouth shut. It made Greymur frown. "Hurias, let it rest, go home and get some sleep," he told the elf. "NO!" the elf almost hit himself against his face with the furious gesture he wanted to prove his point with. His head lolled a little to the left, swinging his blond hair along with it. "I want to be important as well! I may not be you, the great and imposing muscular orc," he said, standing up too flex his arms and try to impersonate Greymur's personality. "Let it be known that I'm the pretty boy around here! And I can do more then be pretty," he said boldly with a double tongue. Greymur smirked at him.

"Alright brave pretty boy, I have a very important task for you," Hurias was all ears. "You go and find Jeri and lend her those big ears of yours to listen to her sulking mood, because she is probably in one right now. And when you come back you can fill me in on it, after you had some sleep," he said and pointed a finger at Hurias' ears. The elf stood up with a sigh, wobbly. He left with his own sulking expression when he gave in. Disappointed he had opened his mouth.

Greymur sighed deeply. Riselle did the same. There was silence for a long time before she spoke. "I should not have asked you to release me, but I am grateful you came to my aid," she finally said, apoligizing for her previous behavior. He looked at her. "Perhaps you care to tell me some more about this problem you seem to have?" She laid her hands on the table when he finally asked, nodding.

"This incident isn't something to take lightly is it? The dead woman, his work as well?" Riselle nodded. "Most likely," she admitted. Greymur stroked his beard. He let it grow out, annoyed to have to shave it constantly.

"Exactly how dangerous is this person?" Riselles lip pursed together when he asked her. "Dangerous enough if he wants to," she said. Greymur grunted. He saw new tears trickle from the corners of her eyes. It was a delicate and difficult subject for her it seemed. This time he did not relive the hatred filled memory of Drahin that stared back at him with that shaking head and that guilty expression when they took him away. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, he waited for her to talk again.

"Care to share some of it?" he asked her. She nodded briefly. The orc emptied his mug with a grunt, ready to listen. Riselle looked doubtful. Looking around the room for something to focus on before she talked. "I'm so sick and tired of running, of hiding...," she said to him, focused her eyes on her hands for now. Greymur hesitated, he was curious enough to ask everything now she was ready to tell him more. "Start by telling me what really brought you here. Asalt knows more I assume?" He did not want to sound blameful, but he wanted answers. "That is because he does know more," she stated. "I came here because of goblin neutrality. I was going to plea for a refugee status," she told him. Refugee? That did surprise Greymur.

"Why not ask for citizenship? Gazlowe loves new blood in town. Why didn't you try Orgrimmar instead of a neutral port like Ratchet?" she shrugged, not knowing exactly why, but at the time going to Ratchet sounded like the better plan. "In a city like Orgrimmar rules are different to that of a neutral city or town. Besides, he could have done far more damage there than he did here. And from here I could continue my search more easily than being stuck in Orgrimmar." Greymur wondered about that, in Orgrimmar they would have jumped on top of him with six guards to subdue him. Here they didn't. He wondered about being better off in Ratchet or not. She would have had the zeppelin service in Orgrimmar. Here all she had was a boat. But perhaps it was clever he figured, for her own reasons.

"Sounds like you have been reading up on law and rules," he said. She nodded. "Everybody in the Horde abides the rules set to be part of such a large faction. But it is the smaller factions that make up the bigger one. And each faction has its own rules," she said wisely. Greymur knew exactly what she meant. When he worked in Orgrimmar things had been completely different from Twilight Highlands.

Twilight Highlands had been a pain for him, not only because of the past. Also because of the circumstances he chose. He could have picked death, but he didn't. So his choice was peon, or grunt. Doing duties that were far beneath him to humiliate him he held no honor within the clan anymore. Orgrimmar was easy in a strange comforting way. There he did not have to worry about past. Ratchet was more his thing right now. "How did you figure out you were better off in a neutral zone instead of in the main Horde city?" Curiosity was one thing, she could tell by the way he held back.

"Rules," was her answer. "You can see it like a household, in here you set your own rules, or add new ones." Her eyes trailed away from the conversation as she fixed her gaze upon the wall near the fireplace in his house. "In Orgrimmar security is as tight as in Ratchet, yet there I would not have been allowed to wear my weapon without having it inspected first. Registered perhaps. They would have questioned me at the gates about my business in Orgrimmar. Perhaps held me because of some restraining order from Silvermoon. They probably interrogated me about my stay, anything to cut down on suspicion. Gazlowe seems to lay trust in the people he works with, since he lets his people decide if they find anything suspicious to investigate when people come from the boats or the flight point. I'm sure the mother would have made sure Orgrimmar was informed about me," she stood up from the table, walking over to wall to admire the weapons that decorated it. One in particular caught her eye. The heavy two handed axe. "That is a nice weapon," she pointed at it. He nodded. "Were you allowed to use it in Orgrimmar?" she wondered. He shook his head. When he worked in Orgrimmar he was required to wear the standard outfit and the weapons that came with that, not his own. Those were for personal use. "It is the last reminder I have from my time in Twilight Highlands," he said, sounding regretful.

"Was it designed for you?" she asked. He smirked as he nodded. "I used to have a two handed sword, designed for my hands by my brother," she said, her smile lovingly. "I also came here because I hoped I could track him down more easily from here. If I would have been stuck in Orgrimmar I could never have relied on the rules the goblins made when they called for goblin neutrality. And Orgrimmar would have had many more ways for them to track me down more easily. Here it would not be uncommon to ask any Alliance member if they might have come across a young man with the description of my brother," she mentioned. That answered his question. That was something he could understand. "Family is important," he agreed.

Family wasn't important enough for Drahin in Twilight Highlands he realized.

"Gazlowe could not give me refugee status, but he did tell me he could try and help me look out for my brother," her voice was clear. Another part of curiosity satisfied when he realized she had probably spoken to Gazlowe long before they ever met. "Instead of being stuck in Orgrimmar, you are stuck here because of that incident…," adding that to the small details she just told him made it a different story to him. She smiled, a sad smile. "Better here than in Orgrimmar. Now all I can do is wait. And thanking you again for allowing me into your home," she said.

"It takes more courage to endure things that are not in your own hands," he muttered distracted. He got up from his chair as he walked over to her by the wall. Taking down the large axe for her to see. The thing was almost as tall as she was. She looked at the weapon carefully. "I have been wondering," he said as he followed her inspection of the weapon with interest. "What is your class?" he asked, showing he had been curious about that for some reason. Riselle smiled.

"Paladin," she said. That explained the plate he had seen. And the weapon. "Was the plate designed for you as well?" She nodded. "My brother loved to experiment with his blacksmith skills. I was always a willing subject for his creativity. I know the plate was rather unusual, but I have been wearing it ever since he made his first set for me," her eyes shone for a moment before they became dull again. "A blacksmith for a brother, convenient," Greymur had to admit. "What would your brother find of this one?" He felt the familiar weight of the weapon in his hand as he picked it up again.

"He would admire the quality of the blacksmith that made it and probably would be inspired to make a weapon that would combine different aspects of his own creativity and your clan," she said, thinking what Rotharian would do. They usually agreed on things. "He could make me a new weapon," Greymur laughed. Riselle looked at the blade of the axe. "You do not like it anymore?" The hunter shook his head. He did like it, but there were too many memories attached to it.

His axe had not been used since he moved away from Twillight Highlands. The weapon was well made, carefully crafted by the blacksmith of his village. Even when he still was respected within the clan he had to save up to afford it. The better weapons weren't meant for low members of the clan. When he fell from honor he was told he was now no more than a grunt, some called him a peon. They didn't ask for the weapon. It was supposed to be a lesson, an example. They did not dare ask for his weapon when the general mixed in. He might had to start over again, but that was a personal weapon. Earned. He was allowed to keep it, although he was humiliated by being stripped from everything else. His life, his honor, his woman. Drahin hated him for dishonoring her. She was degraded, but she would suck her way up he had no doubt.

The general told him he should have used that axe to cut out his heart, but he could not because Greymur was his friend. One of the less corrupted and only friend he had left in the clan. So he took it into his custody, returning it when he left the Highlands. He always told Greymur he should not have grown so soft, not lacked hospitality. Not showing hospitality was a grave error. Greymur coudl not care less. First it was a burden, later he appreciated the gesture more than the general would have hoped. Accepting his punishment he started in the lowest ranks again, working his way up. In Ratchet he had set the weapon aside, using it for decoration in his new home, while getting accustomed with his other weapons again. He was handy enough with a sword, but his axe lay comfortable in his hand.

"Paladin without honor," she said ashamed. "I lost my honors and the privilege of my holy powers thanks to Asathar and his mother," it grieved her. Greymur's huge hand rested on her shoulder suddenly. He didn't know why he did that, but he felt he needed to do so. "Honor can be restored, life cannot," he said. Unfortunately not everything could be restored. Something they both shared. "Do you think I need to worry about Gazlowe?" she pondered, asked him in a personal way. He didn't know for sure, but he hoped not. "I think you can talk to Gazlowe, instead I would worry about Hurias." Greymur confirming her thoughts. She inhaled deeply after that, the last thing she could use was a lovesick elf.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Stranger things have happened.  
><strong>  
>"Any results yet?" Adinna looked at Helbrim. "Shhhh," he said to her. While the forsaken man enjoyed the considerable cold in Adinna's workshop, she enjoyed watching all of his bubbling bottles, fires, mixtures, potions and powders that were displayed on a second large table.<p>

The other table was packed with blankets. On Helbrim's request she had converted the switch so the normal setting and let the cool underground temperature take over. The Snowmaster 9000 did not have to produce now they knew they had a sleeper on their hands. Although Adinna still held hope the woman would wake up, Helbrim was skeptical about it. He told her not to expect much.

With the switch turned off assistant Thumbscrew could leave her winter coat outside while working in the underground space. She looked at Helbrim from the side while he was waiting for something to happen in a small bottle he had held over a fire for quite some time.

Up to now they had filtered out two categorized herbs that weren't allowed to be used in normal potions by alchemist because they were dangerous. They found the woman had a large amount after they did some test on her blood. Adinna had added the knowledge to her already existing research.

The ticked her clipboard impatiently. "Patience, discipline Adinna!" Helbrim looked at her with his glowing yellow eyes, giving her a wicked grin. It was almost scary the way Helbrim was working. Only the bubbling of his bottles on the small fires were hearable.

* POOF *

The noise startled assistant Thumbscrew when she saw a thick cloud of smoke appear and heard the breaking of glass. The stuff from the bottle dripped through Helbrims' hands onto the table and ate away the surface of the wood. "Hmm ... just what I thought," she heard Helbrim say in a thoughtful way when he looked at it. The goo had also eaten away the skin from his fingertips. Showing clean bone now, something he looked less happy about. "Acidic mixture," he noted. The dark green stuff was moving like a mini ooze and slithered across the table, leaving a dark sizzling dark trail before it was caught by Helbrim in a round flat glass dish where it could not move out of.

"Quite the stuff," he confessed to assistant Thumbscrews. "What does it do?" she wanted to know, all curious what he had found. "This," he said and held up his hand. She looked gruesome at the sight. "Once it become active, and that is it what it does with the combination of herbs that I have filtered out of the blood that we collected, it eats through everything. That she has survived so far is actually a miracle," he explained. Helbrim examined his fingertips, the phalanx of his finger was now visible.

"Great, now I need new skin to fix this," came the dry monotonous remark.

"You do not happen to have spare parts here do you?" he inquired subtle. Adinna looked doubtfully at his fingers. "Uh ... no, we do not keep 'spare parts' for forsaken really, well, not unless they are mechanical, but you obviously seek something else," she said with a disgusted face when he had counted his visible finger bones out loud. When he looked at the dark green stuff in his glass dish again he grinned, putting his other fingers in with a sinister grin.

"Fascinating, isn't it," she heard him say as he saw his own skin was eaten away by the acidic mixture. She found the man strangely bizarre sometimes. "What now?" she wanted to know, her attention turned away from the infested fingers. She was a little nauseous while looking at him , Helbrim himself seemed to be fascinated. It was a bit dubious, as cutting into people to find out more about their insides was her passion, yet she could not look at his half eaten fingers without feeling disgusted. For one reason or another watching a forsaken dip his fingers into some acidic mixture that ate away his skin and flesh did not really appeal with the same passion she held when cutting dead people open. She would never cut open a forsaken if she could prevent it.

"Wait," she heard him say. He turned his gaze to another bubbling bottle on a fire. "For what?" She wanted to know. He still held that same sinister grin on his face.

The gasping sound for breath was met with the noise of suffocating. It made Adinna almost get a heart attack when she realized it came from the woman on the table behind them. The sleeper, as they had continued to call her, sat up straight, her eyes closed. Assistant Thumbscrew looked scared, to Helbrims greater fascination. She never had to deal with this before.

"I told you we were waiting for something to happen. When the acidic goo came free I knew it would not take long," he mentioned almost cheerfully to her. She made sure she was not too close to the body. There was a trickle of blood coming from the woman's nose, it didn't take long before a small stream came down the sides of her mouth as she finally fell back on the table. Gurgling strangely as her limbs showed final spasms.

Helbrim chuckled mostly about Adinna's response, regardless of what they had witnessed from the sleeper. "Do not worry, this is quite normal," he said dryly. Assistant Thumbscrew felt rather horrible at the sight of the sleeping woman and the sudden nasty sounds she made. "Is she dead?" Adinna asked, fearful for the answer. "I think the acid mixture has started to move ... this will truly mean her real death," Helbrim said. The woman coughed again as her fingers pulled together in a strange way, all her limbs seemed to tremble before she finally relaxed. The strange blue glow seemed less vibrant. "How unfortunate," was all Helbrim said, while the woman died.

"I ...how do I know…she really is dead?" Adinna wanted to know. He nodded. "I will give you a demonstration," he mentioned. "It actually it is a shame she died so sudden... I had hoped we could test a little longer. It is not often I get the chance to test on a sleeper," Helbrim looked at the woman. "Well, at least you now truly do have a corpse on your hands," he said gleefully. Assistant Thumbscrew stared at the man, he was literally sad he could not test on her anymore? She shivered when he said that. Helbrim ran his hands over the face of the half-covered woman. "But you were truly a beautiful specimen," he said scientifically, looking at the corpse.

"But ... how do I know if she really is dead?" Adinna asked again. Helbrim grinned and grabbed one of the scalping knifes which had been laid out carefully on a tray for assistant Thumbscrew to use when needed. Placed on top of a cupboard beside the table she usually would do her autopsy on. Adinna let out a startled sound when Helbrim suddenly took one of her knifes and stuck it the head of the woman.

"**What are you doing**!" she screamed out loud, gasping at him. Helbrim laughed wickedly. "You know Adinna, for somebody with a fascination for death, you are no different from any other living being I have encountered. They all seem sick to the stomach the first time they see this. She was going to die at some point, this is more merciful then to have her suffer don't you think? And you do this for a job. Perhaps you need to come to Undercity and learn some of the tricks they taught me there, might come in handy the next time," he mentioned. "I'm not doing anything special, This is one way to check if your test subject is truly dead. This my dear, is the what I got taught in Undercity," he explained dryly, and made a small incision in the forehead. Adinna thought she was going to be sick for a moment when she saw him do that. "If you want you can see her brains, although it can be quite smelly if an acid mixture has come to pass, now is the time. If you wait too long it will have turned into pulp. A grey blubber the brain used to be, nothing spectacular really," he said, cutting deeper.

"The body stiffness will occur within hours, just according to the books," he noted to her. Adinna only nodded, keeping one arm around her stomach. Quite overwhelmed by Helbrim's action and the sudden fact that she now really did have a corpse lying on the table. "I hope she did not suffer from our tests," Adinna said, feeling rather terrible about poking the woman in her finger so many times with a needle.

"Trust me when I say that she really would have suffered severely more if she would have woken up. It is better for her that she really has deceased now," was his conclusion. Adinna did not know what to say.

"Th- this is a normal death?" Helbrim nodded at her. "Normal enough, maybe not for you, but I certainly would dare say death by inappropriate consumption would be considered a normal death for a human. Basically for any race. It would have caused her death if she would not have been found. If she would have been found afterwards she probably would have been rid of every body fluid," he simply said. "You would have found a dried out corpse if you would have found her a day later," he explained. "Now the question is, what will you do with her?" Helbrim wanted to know.

Assistant Thumbscrew shrugged. She had no idea yet. Gazlowe needed to be informed of the sudden death of the woman. And that the suspected killer had been an elixir mixed with uncategorized herbs. "It is very unfortunate that we do not have a way to wake her, otherwise I would have liked to be more acquainted with this beautiful specimen," he grinned. Adinna felt far from appealed by the idea. "I-I need to go out for a moment... I ehm…I think Gazlowe needs to be inform," she stammered, feeling she suddenly was in dire need of some fresh air. Helbrim remained ever so calm. The apothecary only nodded as she left the room in more haste then she wanted.

* * *

><p>Hurias moped around Ratchet. Sobering up from drinking away his sorrow. Greymur had an easy way of talking. He wasn't the one on his way to seek out Jeri.<p>

Finding Jeri would not be so hard, but dealing with her current mood would. Why did he get tasked to do that? Could Jatfast not listen to his own wife! Jatfast and listening to his wife probably wasn't the best combination he figured, not unless it involved a heavy coin pouch or a deal he could not refuse.

Last time Hurias had listened to Jeri was when she sat on her couch, bundled up in a blanket, feeling sad and miserable for herself while she was hiding behind a pile of those horrible zehvra striped cushions she loved so much. It did not take her long to break, bursting into tears and spilling all her trouble at him. That was the one and only time he had really seen the true Jeri, not hiding behind her mask. He counted two times he had seen her really cry now, without faking it.

Right now he really didn't feel like listening to her. Because she would be whining. About elves, about friends, about not feeling pretty. He felt he was the one who could use a talk himself right now, rather not with Jeri. So he was sulking.

His walk ended in the harbor, where the ships docked. A few fishermen were sitting on the sides of the wooden ramp, watching their bobbers, probably hoping for a good catch. Sometimes they were lucky and fished up lost cargo that found its way back to Ratchet. Enough ships sank to the bottom of the bay over the years. The narrow passage was tricky to steer through he was told when he was still sailing. Mostly accidents with inexperienced captains guiding the ship. Perhaps some were pirate ships, he didn't know, but all you had to do was look in the water to see the sunken ships on the bottom of the bay.

So he stood there, watching the bobber with one of the fishermen. Not far from him another sad individual sat with her head resting in her hands as she was dangling her small goblin legs over de side of the wooden ramp.

"Hey elf?" She didn't look familiar when she called out to him after looking up. "You're Greymur's friend, right? It's me, assistant Thumbscrew. I'm the coroner. You came to talk to me a couple of days ago," she reminded him. He gasped, he didn't recognize her without her white apron and her hair tied back in a bun and that surgical mask on top of her head. She didn't look so scary without the knifes and scalpels around her. She looked like any normal goblin. He wondered about the sad look she had on her face, not unlike himself. "Adinna Thumbscrew," he remembered her now, walking over to her without feeling awkward. "Funny meeting you here. Last time we were talking about dead people in my workshop," she said, smiling watery as he sat himself down next to her.

"I…needed some distraction," he said, looking into the water. "So did I," he heard her say. "Did you eventually find what you came to ask me that day?" she wondered, but he shook his head. "Things were a bit strange after that," he admitted. The bothered look on his face said enough. "I hear you," she nodded, she had her share of strange for today.

"Did you ever work with a forsaken apothecary before?" she asked him. He had to tell her no. He never worked with forsaken before, not if he could avoid it. Not that he hated them with the passion some blood elves did, they simply scared him more then Adinna Thumbscrew did the first time he met her with her squeaky rubber gloves. "It's a girl," he finally said. The almost silent 'oh' she mentioned sounded like a sad sigh. "The thing is, she doesn't know I like her yet. Or she pretends not to know, and I have no clue how to tell her," he explained. Adinna was silent. He looked sideways at her, unsure what to say to her.

"I ehm…,I could do with a drink right now, how about you?" Hurias said, trying to look cheerful at the goblin woman. She stared at him as if she made the wrong cut somewhere. Not sure she hear dhim right."A drink…yes, ofcourse…I could do with one," she said, finally smiling at him in an appreciative way. "Maybe you can tell me a little more about how you came to be the multitasking nurse slash coroner around Ratchet?" he asked, with real interest in her job this time. She looking at him with a smile. "Perhaps you wish to tell me more of this girl you like?" She offered in return.

"I never meant to scare you off like that the first time you came walking into my workshop, but you were so…enchanting," Adinna apologized. Hurias wondered what Jeri said to her after he complained. Instead of bringing that up he decided to try: "I had no idea you were Jeri's cousin," hoping he wasn't crossing a line. But Adinna chuckled, more at ease then before.

"More of a far away cousin. From her mother's sisters side really," she said. "Jeri seems to have a large family, unlike Jatfast," he tried to picture four Jeri's in a row. Adinna giggled. "Jeri's family is large because they are in trade, payment plans you know, the safer side of business. Jatfast's family blew themselves up because they were into mines, explosives, bomb squads. It's a miracle Jatfast survived his career if you think about it. It really is a miracle he left the bomb squad himself and became a proper rogue for Jeri's sake," she told Hurias.

"A bomb squad? Really?" Hurias was interested to hear that story. Anything like that was a nice distraction, perhaps it helped him to understand them better. "Oh yes, and that's only half of it, you'd laugh about all the things he did for Jeri," she said, taking his hand and leading him away from the docks to a small inn to get that drink.

* * *

><p>Stopping in front of Jeri and Jatfast's house had a whole new meaning after his talk with Adinna. The male half of the goblin rogue couple had a soft spot if he had to believe everything Adinna told him. And she was Jeri's cousin. Hurias smiled for a moment.<p>

The knock on the door sounded hollow. Nobody answered when he knocked again. Hurias bit his lip for a moment, wondering if Jeri was hiding herself inside. Greymur should have handled Jeri himself, but Hurias had more patience. He was glad he did. Especially after his drink with Adinna. She told him more than once what a good listener he was. It made him feel prouder of himself, a little boost in his selfasteem. An asset she called it, which not many goblins possessed.

He walked around the rather strange looking house. It was a half round building with a square shaped extension at the back. A few small windows decorated the front and the sides of the house. He could not peek through the dirty windows to see if he could spot Jeri hidden in her couch. He ended up at the front door again. Pondering if he should knock again or not. A third and final time he told himself. When nobody answered he was about to turn around and walk back to Greymur's house.

The door opened, leaving a small opening to lurk through. Jatfast had to point his nose out to see who bothered him.

"Hurias?" The voice calling after the elf startled him. "What are you doing here?" Jatfast popped his head out the door, surprised to see the blonde-haired elf stand in front of his door. Hurias looked difficult. "I... I came to see how Jeri was doing," he said, half torn between truth and lying about his task.

The rogue eyes him up and down. He did not have his usual smirk plastered to his face, nor his wicked sense of humor. Jatfast looked around in a suspicious way. "Come in before anybody sees you!" He pulled the elf in before Hurias could protest. "Jeri isn't around right now, but she'll be very pleased to see you," Jatfast said with a grin, closing the door behind him as he locked all six locks on the inside again.

Hurias felt rather uncomfortable about being locked in like that. Jatfast only grinned, sly this time. "It's been busy with everybody wanting to know why they arrested me, I make it look like we're not home," he said. He beckoned the elf to follow him. "Sit down!" he heard Jatfast say, pointing to the extremely small goblin stools. Even for elf standards they were too small. The table looked cramped as well. He felt like Greymur when he cramped his legs under the table.

"Want a drink? Something to eat? I do not have the barbeque set up, but I'm sure there's food around the house. Man I sound like Jeri. But otherwise I will get my butt kicked for not offering proper hospitality," he grinned a little weird. Hurias watched the busy goblin search around the kitchen cabinets. Every now and then he heard Jatfast grumble and curse that he could not find anything around here. Eventually he came back with a pot of very strong smelling coffee from the stove, a small jar of milk, two mugs, a couple of bowls, spoons and a big grin on his face. The blood elf feared for the coffee when he smelled it.

"There we go," Jatfast said, placing it all on the table. It was rather strange to see him be so homey while he could be cruel in the tavern to others. Hurias himself being a usual target for Jatfasts amusement. "Help yourself to milk, I know you elves don't fancy strong coffee," Hurias frowned, rather surprised to notice Jatfast actually remembered something about him. "Do you want something to eat?" Jatfast said, offering him a bowl and a spoon.

Hurias saw the goblin rogue subtract the lid of the cooking pot above the fire, gently putting his nose in the to smell. It did not smell of laundry. With a wooden spoon he ladled something up and grinned again. "Raptor surprise ...," he said and sniffed again to be sure. "nothing beats a good goblin barbecue, but Jeri cooks a mean stew if she is in certain moods!" Halfway through the afternoon Hurias was served coffee with raptor surprise by Jatfast. Although not Hurias his favorite, it did smell very nice.

"We really should barbecue sometimes," Jatfast said, seating himself at the table. "Barbecuing?" Hurias asked with a curious look. He took a small bite of the stuff in the bowl, the taste was a bit strange but not all bad. The goblin nodded between two bites. "Yes! Never done it before? It's fun, especially with a group. Tasty food, salad side dishes, alcoholic drinks with tiny umbrella's…and fresh caught meat on the grill! Trust me I'm good at grilling that meat," he said, pointing two thumbs up for himself. "We should really do that with the whole group sometimes…," the enthusiasm about the grill fell into a silence when Jatfast looked at the elf.

"Jeri has made quite mess didn't she?" he asked. Hurias slowly nodded. But she wasn't the only one to blame. "Perhaps Riselle and Greymur did as well without really wanting to. I can believe Jeri worked on impulse as well and Greymur and Riselle didn't really have a choice from what I understood," Hurias said. Jatfast sucked in his cheeks for a moment when his next bite was hot.

"She'll love to hear that from you elf, it will boost her confidence," Jatfast grinned, somewhere thankful he wasn't the only one seeing it. "And Greymur? What does he have to say about it?" the rogue wanted to know from Hurias. The elf folded his shoulders. "Greymur is trying to sort things out and put everything back together. All I know is he suddenly got forced to a job with the Bruisers and is appointed guardian to Riselle. Asalt doesn't share much when I'm around," the elf said with an angry look.

"Guardian, I see," it explained why she was suddenly there. Jatfast knew Jeri wouldn't like it one bit. "Greymur you lucky bastard," the rogue grinned wickedly. Hurias didn't look very happy. "Lucky bastard Greymur? What's his luck besides guarding her! They should have placed her under the care of a blood elf…she would have been more at ease then with an orc," Hurias blurted out. "Do I sense a little jealousy there?" Jatfast bared his yellow teeth in a smug grin. Hurias blushed a little.

"I am **not** jealous!" The defensive way in which it was said showed his true feelings. Jatfast wasn't fooled. "What? You just think you would have been a more appropriate choice then Greymur? Think again boy, the orc has years of fighting experience in his advance. You would have made a poor guardian for the girl," Jatfast said, making the truth sound harsh. Hurias was silent as Jatfast observed him more closely.

"Sounds like somebody's in love," the goblin said as he laughed out loud. The blood elves green eyes seemed to gleam dark with discontent for a moment, making Jatfast laugh louder. "Don't tell me you liked her from the start," he teased him a little. It made Hurias snort in anger. "You did!?" He could not believe his ears when Hurias turned red again. "YOU did! You did like her from the start! You told Jeri she was average! That is soooo wrong….and you liked her! You are in so much trouble when Jeri hears that her pretty boy has a crush on the elf!" He pointed a cracked dirty nail at Hurias his nose, laughing so loud he almost fell on the ground.

"There is no shame in appreciating a good looking woman," the elf said stiffly, feeling terrible he could not hide it. Jatfast gave Hurias a greasy grin. "You know boy, I'm actually glad I found out about you and your…crush. At least you show interest in a woman," he said, taking a gulp from his coffee. Hurias peered at Jatfast. "What do you mean?" he wished for an explanation. Jatfast sucked in his lips, rolling his eyes as he brought up a subject he wasn't quite sure off. "Well, you see boy," he said, almost sounding fatherly towards the elf. "We have been doubting you. Or well, more your interest," said Jatfast.

"We've never seen you with a girl before…you know. Well ofcourse with a girl...but never heard you yabber about a girl before. Ever. So we assumed that you might be, you know," Jatfast looked hard when he tried to describe what he meant but could not find the right words. The elf looked questioning at him. "We were afraid you were liking the wrong side of your kin!" Jatfast said, grinning as he waited for the information to sink in with the elf. He expected a blow to his head, or at least an attempt. But nothing happened. Instead Hurias blinked. His face strange as he pondered about what had just been said to him. He frowned, scratching his chin like Greymur often did, it looked silly without a beard or at least a goaty. He remained silent for a while.

"You actually thought…No! NO! How dare you even think something like that!" He stated, using his hands to make very sure he was making a point. Jatfast looked at him. "It was only a presumption. We didn't know for sure. Now I do and that is a relief!" the goblin said. Trying to keep that dirty grin of his face when the elf blushed furiously and muttered something under his breath.

"I don't know where you got that idea from," Hurias said frustrated. "At least I don't have to worry around you anymore," he informed the elf. Hurias gave him an angry glare. "Wait...is that why Jeri always calls me pretty boy?" Hurias suddenly looked miserable, taking offence to the nickname when Jatfast sniggered. "Boy, you earned that name for more than one reason. Jeri has a thing for pretty people like you, well with the men she has. It's me she fancies, but it's you she likes to parade around with," Jatfast refined their friendship. It didn't make Hurias any less displeased. "Did it ever occur to you to simply ask me about it?" Hurias' voice sounded off. No wonder Jatfast was so odd to him in the beginning. He felt very offended.

"I REALLY do like women, no matter what they think of me," he said angered. "Yes, ofcourse you do, and Jeri always enjoyed shopping with you and you two are always matching so well and all, can't blame me for having doubts," Jatfast continued. Hurias growled at Jatfast. He only went shopping with Jeri because she always complained Jatfast would not. And he mostly ended up carrying anything Jeri bought because she was babbling to everybody she knew and ordered him to stick around or she would make sure he would regret it. How could you say no to Jeri if she promised to rip you in two. And he did not dare say no to her when she was in a specific mood. Hurias always told himself he was a bit to honorable to say no to a womans needs, even a goblin woman like Jeri.

"I'm sorry elf, but for some reason half of the male blood elf society looks well…off," he produced a half-grin at Hurias who did not look happy. "Right…now we cleared that out I have to say I'm still for anytime you and Jeri wish to go shopping together, saves me nagging," Hurias collided his head against the table with a loud bang. "Joking! Get that humor out in the open boy! You're going to need it to survive in a town like Ratchet, or you will be offended all your life!" he said, burping out loud.

"You know sometimes you seriously sound like Jeri," Hurias said. Making Jatfast raise a brow. "Yeah, yeah, I heard that before," he said. There was an awkward silence between them for a moment. Both feeling the conversation was not going smoothly. They resumed to eating and drinking their coffee until Jatfast decided to break the silence.

"Sooo, how's work been going? Found anything new yet?" the elf shrugged and took a mouthful of raptor surprise. "Not0 after I got fired on Wiley's behalf," he said in a dull tone. He had almost forgotten that he was fired when Jatfast nicely reminded him about that as well. "Looking around?" The goblin wanted to know. Hurias shrugged. "A little. Didn't find anything yet. But I've not exactly been looking for a new job," he said honestly. "If all this craziness is solved I'll write a book about my adventures in Ratchet," Hurias remarked with a sour face. "Maybe then they will respect me in Silvermoon or around here," Jatfast almost felt sorry for the young elf.

"If you got a serious writing talent go for it!" Jatfast said instead. Trying to boost the moral. "I got some writing talent," Hurias muttered defensively. Jatfast looked at him with curious eyes. "You seriously got writing talent boy?" Jatfast asked in all earnest. Hurias nodded. "I wrote some poetry that was read in a group of people who appreciated it. At least they applauded me for it," he said with a sigh.

"At least they liked you if they applauded you for it. I get no respect around here, not if I openly admitted I could write," Jatfast said mysteriously."Besides, you don't need respect yet, you're young! You will earn respect when you're older! As for me…well, I get no respect around here whatsoever," Jatfast complained. Although Hurias wasn't exactly intellectually substantiated while growing up at home, mostly because his parents came from a working class, books had always interested him. It was perhaps not expected from working classes they were educated in reading and writing the way the upper classes were, but he liked it.

It started when he got his first job. The youngest of the team, only reaching his adulthood a few moons ago. Apprenticeship to the builder society of Silvermoon, fresh and new into the working world. Ofcourse new flesh had to be spoiled a little. And Hurias was green in so many ways. So green one of his colleagues had given him something to read when he said he could not sleep well after work. Too much excitement they told him. He should try other excitement. There had been laughter among his co workers. One of them handing him a rather yellowed novel with crumbled edges about a gentleman named Marcus. This was guaranteed to make him work his imagination and sleep well after reading it they told him. A steamy novel they called it, and Hurias had read it, his eyes large like acorns when he came to the most crumbled parts of the book. Where the pages were folded and marked.

Ofcourse he had been taught about things like this by his father, or so he claimed when they laughed about that. But he never imagined there was writing about things like that. Surely not in the descriptive way.

They made him read up for his work as well. Scrolls, books, manuscripts, anything about the old city and its glorious ways. Hurias had a hidden talent concerning books. He was an eager reader, which was appreciated by his colleagues. They made him read up on the architecture styles for his work. By reading he developed a small talent when he was able to read from the described architectural style and help his colleagues to draw it down on paper. Together with his team he got more insight in the old buildings that were destroyed during the scourge invasion. And Hurias was good at reading the little details for certain buildings. The Regent-Lord requested the builders society to use as much information as they could find of the old ruins of Silvermoon, using it to recreate the new Silvermoon in the glorious ways of the old city.

It gained him some respect among his coworkers. His boss often asked him to delve into books for that. Even though his colleagues still fooled him because he was the youngest member he felt part of the team.

But writing a book wasn't the same as reading one.

"Writing poetry and reading books. I keep finding out so many new things about you! You keep surprising me, I never would have guessed. I'm starting to like you more and more, boy," he said, nodding. There was a teasing twinkle in Jatfast his eyes.

"You remind me of myself a little you know," he heard Jatfast say, snapping his fingers when he remembered something. Hurias took a few sips of the dark coffee, adding more milk to it to get the bitter taste out. "I might just know the thing now you're out of a job!" the goblin rogue seemed pleased with himself. "If you really are good in poetry, how would you to work as a freelance writer? You know, for work I mean?" Jatfast inquired in a subtle way with these strange shining eyes. Hurias recognized that look all too well. "If you want to involve me in one of your shady deals than no ... I do not wish to be deployed, but for honest work I'm game," he said firmly. The goblin grinned. "Honest work? There isn't more honest work then that boy," he cried out and suddenly jumped up."Wait here, l'll be right back!" and he was gone.

Hurias was left alone on the tight table. Wondering if this was the right moment to leave silently before another horrible was added to the conversation. Instead he waited. Giving him a change to look around the rather strange house. The wallpaper was quite diverse. On one wall there was penguin wallpaper, while on the other wall a brightly colored row of yellow pineapples and bananas decorated the wall, divided by red and yellow stripes. He had to laugh about the combination when he saw it. On the bench lay large zehvra striped cushions and the wall above the fireplace was decorated with a hunting scene with a white tiger. There were crazy looking things with wires and bolts dangling out, too odd even for his imagination. He only saw weird things in Zanaks workshop the few times he went there with Greymur. Horribly fake flowers decorating the window boards set in deep purple and blue glass vases. Not really his taste.

Between the pineapple and banana wallpaper wall was a passage to another room, decorated with a curtain of flat round yellow beads that gently tickled together when Jatfast came through it. He carried a box of papers with him. "Reading and writing right? Honest work!" he said enthusiastically and pushed his empty bowl aside to make room on the table for his box. He took out a stack of magazines with scantily clad goblin ladies who were set in the strangest positions Hurias had ever seen. The elf nearly choked on his coffee when he looked at it.

"Cute isn't she?" Jatfast said as he noticed Hurias looking at a certain picture. "Miss Kezan Beach...you know I actually dated her before she became famous? Loooooong before I met Jeri ofcourse. She sent me this autographed copy of her first shoot because I encouraged her to do what she did best, be beautiful," he said almost proudly and pushed the magazine under Hurias his nose. The goblin woman was posing in bikini, only wearing her leather boots. She was pictured on a very dirty looking oil stained beach decorated with barrels, broken bottles and half-dead fish.

"Thanks to my dearest...Miss Kezan Beach," Hurias read and looked doubtful at Jatfast. Did he just blush?

"Yeah, beautiful woman that one," Jatfast was swooning over the woman in the picture. It made Hurias smile for a moment. Now there was a whole different side of Jatfast he never seen before. After his talk with Adinna he knew more about Jatfast and his family then the rogue himself would probably ever share with him, but there was more. "There is so much beautiful green in these magazines boy! And you know what the best part is? I know lots of these girls. I can even introduce them to you…ladies like that love poetry and a pretty face. Ofcourse I will charge you a certain fee for the introduction, you do realize dating a celebrity like that doesn't come cheap," Jatfast hinted as he gave another magazine to Hurias. The woman on the front looked at him with a greasy grin while she held a screwdriver in her hand and was half bent over a motorized vehicle changing oil from the looks of it. Or at least the greasy stains on her face and arms would indicate that.

"Hot or not?" Jatfast asked Hurias and nodded. "Um... yes ... well," the elf said, feeling rather uncomfortable. Jatfast chuckled. "Like them pretty greens? I bet every Horde member has dreamed of one at least once. There is nothing wrong with pretty greens…I mean look at those forms! The intense green color ... rrrrrrr ... yum yum yum," the elf was feeling slightly nervous about the way Jatfast displayed his interest in the half naked women. Hurias worried more about Jatfast' health if Jeri would find out. And he was sure Jeri did not know about this, remembering how jealous Jeri could act.

"And how does this involve being a freelance writer?" Hurias asked. Jatfast thought for a moment. "Ah yes. You probably want to know how I came to know all these beauties, right?" Jatfast laughed mysteriously.

"I'll let you in on a little secret boy," he said conspiratorially, and hung over the table to make sure Hurias heard him correct. "I write!" he whispered. Hurias stared at him. "In secret... because Jeri doesn't know!" he said, nodding again.

"You write?" He could not help but sound a little odd about the subject. The goblin nodded, very seriously. "This, go on, read it!" he said and pushed several sheets of paper into Hurias' direction.

"The Adventures of Madame Jade in the jungle," Hurias read out loud. He nearly snickered at the title. The story was hard to decipher by the weird handwriting. "On a hot jungle day Madame Jade decided to take a stroll..." Hurias snorted when he read on. This was bad!

"This ... is Madame Jade," Jatfast said and showed him another scantily clad blonde lady goblin, posing on top of a dead crocolisk near the shore of a river. Hurias did not know what to say when he read the next lines. "This is as bad as those steamy novels!" he blurted out. "Yeah kind of," Jatfast said, rubbing his hands together. "But storied like this, they sell boy! Jugs, the magazine you're holding, always buys something I've written," Jatfast told Hurias and laughed with him.

"A story by Quickie McFingers?" Hurias read at the bottom of the last page, looking at Jatfast for that. "My pen name," Jatfast explained, feeling rather important for having a pen name and needing to explain that. "I can't go around displaying my usual name now can I? Not if I don't want Jeri to find out," he said. Hurias grinned, he felt sorry for Jatfast if she ever did.

"So…how good was your writing style again Hurias?" he said and looked straight at him. The elf grinned. Was this what Jatfast meant by honest work?

"Exactly how much does writing a story earn you ?" the elf asked with slight interested. Jatfast shrugged. "Depends on how well they like it, but on average bases I get around 50 gold for a long story or 20 gold for a report when I travel at my own costs while they do a photo shoot with the girls on the cover. Sometimes they allow me to do an interview," he said almost glorified. Hurias never knew Jatfast had a job or an interest like this. He did know if Jeri was going to find out, he would be dead meat.

"Of course that never pays enough so I do have another job. For that I must travel around. It covers my excuse to travel around. Besides, what Jeri doesn't know can't hurt her," he said with a wink.

"It's a very nice extra income," he said honestly. Hurias could understand that. "So if you have any writing talents and imagination, perhaps we can work out something?" he said, coming to the point. "I can introduce you to the producer of Jugs. He is very versatile and would love to hear about new talent. They do erotic poetry. And because I have suggested you I will ofcourse get a small fee of what you earn because I will be your manager!" Jatfast could already see his money pouch become heavier with coin. Hurias had to laugh very hard about the greedy side of the whole idea, that was typically goblin business he realized. But he wasn't exactly sure if this was such a good idea.

"Think about it boy, it isn't a bad offer if you are short on money," Jatfast pointed out. "Here, read this one, You'll probably like it. That is a classic love story, set out in the cold area of Winterspring," Jatfast gave him a magazine with the title 'Playful Winternights' written on it. The elf laughed when he started. This was even more hilarious than the one about the jungle. They both laughed.

"Well hello, gentlemen!" the cheery voice made them both stiffen. Like two children caught while stealing cookies from a jar. The two of them never heard the front door open while they had fun over the many different stories Jatfast had written. "How did you get in? I locked everything!" Jatfast blurted out. "Back entrance," she said, pointing to the curtain. There she stood, in front of the table, Adinna Thumbscrew, looking at two very startled men. "Well hello there handsome, we meet again. If I had known you were going to see Jatfast I would have accompanied you," she said with a smile as she looked at Hurias. She looked exactly like Jeri the way she smiled.

"Adinna... what... uh ... Jeri is not home yet," Jatfast stammered. Hurias smiled by seeing Jatfast so uncomfortable. "That's lucky for you then, because I came here to see you Jatfast," she said and winked at Hurias. She sat herself next to him without asking if she was interfering them. "For me? And ...ehm…exactly what for?" The rogue seemed mistrusting towards Adinna. She wiggled her nose for a moment, adjusting the earring in it. Before she cleared her throat and looked sharply at Jatfast.

"You can speak freely, the boy isn't a stranger," he said. Adinna seemed relieved.

"My test subject had deceased, like Helbrim called her, and Gazlowe sent me to Zef who told me to speak to you…for transporting," she said slowly, sounding cryptic when Jatfast nodded understandingly. "You need to have a corpse transported to Undercity…is that all?" he simply called it by the name. She looked at Hurias, their little talk had done him well. She seemed to do better herself. "That's my other work boy," he declared proudly. "I'm a corpse remover," he said as Adinna looked difficult when he said it. "Zef told me that you would arrange it if you would take those other two," she said, not exactly knowing who these other two were. Jatfast nodded.

"Did he say something about the payment?" Jatfast wanted to know. "Zef told me to tell you that you could choose from these weapons in the store room that you been so keen about, or the usual amount per case. He would check on the payment you would receive from Snowy and her Horde Coffin Hauler boys. Oh and he wanted to minimize costs of the portals transport if possible. Perhaps you should consider another mage because Wizzle charged far to much since last time," she said. Jatfast grumbled, knowing that it was true. Wizzle had asked ridiculous prices for the portals Jatfast needed to carry through the coffins. But Wizzle was also the only person who was doing the portals for that sort of job without complaining. At least here in Ratchet. Gazlowes surly-looking assistant had recently pointed out to him he wanted to lower the costs of the portals if he could. Though taking three coffins was even a bit much for him to drag through a portal on his own. Wizzle would not allow a cart to go through or he would charged extra for that. Jatfast thought very hard to find a suitable solution.

"I could ask Suarez," he suddenly said. "Suarez?" Adinna thought for a moment before she began to smile. "Suarez Blastbolt?" she inquired. Jatfast nodded. "Do you still have contact with him?" she wanted to know, blushing slightly. Jatfast nodded subtly. "I can contact him if necessary. I have ways to do that. For the right price I'm sure we will come to an agreement on portal use, "Jatfast shared his thoughts out loud.

"Shall I leave you to your planning?" Hurias said carefully. They both looked strange for a moment, forgotten he had been there. "Oh no! No! Please stay," Adinna immediately said, sounding inviting. "This is only a work discussion," Jatfast said quickly. He frowned a moment and suddenly clapped his hands together. "Boy," he said, and turned his attention to the elf. "You have some strength in those arms of yours? Or you wouldn't have worked in the mines. How would you like to assist me with this?"Jatfast wanted to know. Hurias was not sure.

"Doing what? Help you carry those cases to Undercity? Those cases, those are…coffins?" he asked, almost sounding afraid. Jatfast nodded. "Greymur will not mind if I borrow you for a while. He is busy enough. It's not like he owns you or anything. And he probably does not wish to worry about you if he knows you were wandering off in a lovesick state. With your help I can go up and down quickly. You can help me drag them through the portal and I can compensate you for your help, how about that? " he sounded enthusiastic.

"Are you looking for work?" Adinna wanted to know. Hurias kept silent, overwhelmed by the two loud goblins at the table. "You can always come and help me if I do an autopsy, you can be my handsome lab assistant!" Adinna said and tilted her head to look at him with a smile. "Um ...," Hurias blinked. "Leave the boy alone Adinna! You scare him with your line of work, he's better off with me instead of helping you cut open people," Jatfast said in an exaggerated tone. Assistant Thumbscrew looked offended and sniffed loudly as she turned her gaze away from the other goblin. She took up one of the magazines from the table while Jatfast was working out a deal.

Her temper was gone when they heard her giggles over the magazine. Jatfast and Hurias continued their negotiations.

"I cannot officially pay you for your help, but I can offer you a deal?" Jatfast said to him. "What would you offer?" he asked. Jatfast thought for a moment, looking difficult. What could he offer an elf like Hurias.

"How about a weapon? Nice clothing? Yes? Say it, name it and it will be very likely I'm able to get it," Jatfast said. He could arrange it all if he wanted. Hurias, unlike Greymur, never understood much of the trade system Ratchet used. Nor between the exchanging of deals between goblins. Greymur always dealt with that. Both Jeri and the hunter tried to explain it to him, but he did not have the patience for it. He only worked in the mine and thus earned his monthly income by doing his shifts rather than to fall back on the barter system. "I can set you up on a date with one of those beauties if you like… skipping the fee ofcourse because that would settle your payment," he suggested with a grin.

Hurias shook his head. But Jatfast was persistent. "How about…me setting you up with… Riselle?" Adinna looked up when the name was mentioned. "The boy doesn't need a date, he needs courage to tell her how he feels," she said wisely. Jatfast agreed. The elf blushed slightly. He did not need to be set up on a date. well at least not by Jatfast. He would settle his feelings for her on his own.

"Hey, if you ever need it…my offer for lab assistant still stands. It can be very fulfilling to cut something open when you're feeling hurt," she said. "Since when do you give love advice Adinna? We both know you're a sucker for men," Jatfast didn't sound very friendly. Adinna gave him a lame grin. "I had a talk with Hurias, over a drink. The boy has soft hands, if you would be bothered to show more interest in him you might have found out he has hidden talents, such as the basic for a nurse training. Always comes in handy!" Hurias silently thanked her for not saying what they really talked about. She smiled at him. I'm showing more interest in the boy, and he's mine Adinna, not yours. He's Jeri's protégé so I have more rights," Jatfast said, as if he was claiming a prize.

"You might want to ask that to the one with the real rights," she pointed at Hurias. The elf smiled. He might be Jeri's protégé, he didn't owe her anything. All she had done for him was because she mothered over him. He had repaid her in his own terms, by going shopping, listening to her, being part of the strange friendship between them. Helping her with chores she wanted done. "Yeah yeah, details, human rights, elf rights, goblin rights, whatever, all the same," Jatfast said. Adinna shrugged as she continued reading. The elf felt a firm green hand on his shoulder. Jatfast smirked at him. "How about it boy? You interested in my offer?" the rogue asked.

"If I help you, is there a way to find out where that jade plate of Riselle went? Perhaps we can recover it? That would settle my payment if I help you in Undercity," Hurias said. Jatfast whistled through his teeth. "Tough one boy. That's probably long gone. I do not know if my connections reach far enough for that kind of information, but I'm willing to try," he said.

"OH MY GOODNESS! THAT IS SO AWESOME!" Both Hurias and Jatfast looked shocked when they looked at Adinna, who cried out in excitement. She smirked as she held a piece of paper in her hand, reading it again. "You are Quickie McFingers!" she waved the paper up and down at Jatfast when he turned a green pale in his face. The papers, the magazines, he forgot all about them.

"I-I ehm….I…," he stammered. For the first time they both saw Jatfast speechless.

"Woah! Where's the fire?" Jeri peeked her head around the door of the living room and looked around to see what all the noise was about. "**JERI**!" Adinna squealed cheerfully, jumping up to hug her cousin. Jeri smirked. "Geez, you three together? That's a rather strange welcome. Seriously, I could hear you all halfway up the street with the noise you were making. What is it going on here?"Jatfast face looked more than a little surprised to see his wife enter.

"Hunnybun….s-sweetie, what a surprise! I did not expect you home yet," he said, rolling his eyes.

Adinna was sparkling with excitement. Her smile so wide it showed all her teeth. Jeri looked curious at her. "Jeri... you lucky woman! I had no idea!" Assistant Thumbscrew said, still holding the paper Jatfast made Hurias read earlier.

"What?" The other goblin woman had no idea what her cousin was on about. Hurias could see it in the way she sucked in her lower lip. "Playful Winternights is one of my favorites! This is so amazing! I am such an incredible fan of this writing, I really had no idea!" Adinna exulted enthusiastic. Jatfast tried to make gestured for Adinna to shut up, but she didn't see him. So he pulled Jeri away from the table, turning her around from the stack of magazines her cousin was pointing at. He tried to kiss her, a clumsy kiss, Jeri pushed him away. "What do you mean Adinna?" Jeri wanted to know, getting rid of Jatfast'grip on her as she eyed him curiously. "These you silly! The writing!" Adinna cried out in her enthusiasm. The uncertain grin plastered to Jatfast his face told her something was wrong here.

"I... I can explain," he began slowly. Jeri looked at her cousin again, puzzled. "Quickie McFingers ofcourse! You must be so proud…and such a huge source of inspiration for him to write about! He writes such steaming hot stories," Adinna babbled. Jeri gritted her teeth when she heard the name Quickie McFingers. She looked at Jatfast only to see him turn more pale. Hurias held his hand clapped over his mouth to keep himself from laughing.

"**Thanks big time Adinna**," Jatfast grumped at assistant Thumbscrew. Adinna looked awkward, what did she do wrong now?

Hurias chuckled softly. Jeri gritted her teeth loudly, cracking her knuckles when the golden coin dropped in place and she linked her husband to the author's name on the magazine. Hurias knew never to underestimate Jeri's mood when she was cracking her knuckles, Jatfast knew that better than anybody else.

"Quickie McFingers? Seriously Jatfast?" They all looked at Jeri. She looked like one of those little bomblings that was about to explode the moment you stepped into its path.

"_**I loathe**_…_**storied by Quickie McFingers**__!_" Jatfast swallowed when he saw Jeri shake a rolled up magazine at him. He made a sudden bolt for the door. Shooting past Jeri while he still had the change. "**Quickly quickly**…," he cried out to Hurias, as if the trap would close and he would never be able to get out again. Jatfast did not know how fast he had to get out into the street.

"**Damned Adinna and her blabber mouth!**" Jatfast cursed when he was out in the street. Hurias laughed out loud now while Jatfast grumbled at him. "You're no great help," he muttered. "A well kept secret," Hurias laughed, trying to keep it polite. "Shut up elf!" Was all Jatfast could come up with, his green face flushed with anger.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: The type of men they are.**

The dark hallways of the mansion never held any warmth for Anayis when she walked though them. So close to the deathscar it felt like any of the zombified undead could enter through the walls of the mansion at any time, even though it was protected by multiple spells to keep them out. Anayis felt uncomfortable as she shivered in her thin night gown, not only from cold. Covering her bare arms over the low cut décolleté as she continued on bare feet through the carpet paved hallway, she worried.

The guard that following her didn't say anything. She wondered if they removed his tongue. The Whitemorn family was known to hold stranger customs.

Keeping this house was one of them. It felt haunted, unlike her old family home in Silvermoon where things were always so safe. Being married off like her father intended did not make the outside world beyond the walls of Silvermoon City any less scary for the girl. She walked on her toes when they reached Lohurin's private chambers on the third floor. Feeling the nasty taste of what was to come because he had summoned her. Being summoning meant he wanted something. Probably something she was not going to enjoy.

Lohurin was not a man easily satisfied. At least not in bed. And since his mother did not allow him to please himself with other women Anayis was the target of either abuse or a night of passion. Either way he was as changeable as the wind if she said the wrong things to him. If she didn't speak at all he would be vexed and annoyed, accusing her of trying to make sure he could not find pleasure with her. But the mother could not prevent it all. She put a stop to his little trips to Silvermoon. Making sure he was always surrounded by somebody who would watch out for him. Nobody watched out for her though. Of late he was restless. Uneasy.

His mother made sure he was occupied, mostly so he could not seduce any of the servant girls. Anayis knew about that. Not only from the silent gossip among the staff that told stories of how the young master sometimes forced his passion on the girls in dark corridors of the hallway. The mother tried to inspire him instead with her magic, but all he did was yawn and complain to Anayis how boring his mother was during the rituals she practiced with her little coven.

Lohurin came up with different games. If he could not entertain himself with the servant girls in the hallway, then he would make them come to him. Once he ordered her to sit in a chair by the open window, while he summoned one of the servant girls to his bedroom. Making her watch how the poor thing crawled underneath him as he pinned her to the bed and forced her to enjoy the game with him, holding a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. It did not have the effect he hoped on Anayis. Making him angry as he dragged her down the stairs to the basement again, leaving her to lament in the pit. She hated the pit. The dark damp place where she could not escape from.

When his mother found out about the servant girls she took care of it, by punishing him. She used a dark spell on him, the one that trapped him in his greatest fears and made him cry out for his mother. He would pant and heave, clawing around to ghosts that weren't there. The mother made her watch a couple of times. Making him promise he would make her spent less hours in the pit and more in his bedchambers. Another thing Anayis did not enjoy, watching the mother work up close if she used her dark magic. After the last time she punished him he promised her solemnly that he would be spending his time wisely, with his wife. As a token of her appreciation for that promise Lilah Whitemorn allowed her son to have the potions back. Not the orb, never the orb! She took the orb for herself, locking it away in her private chambers, sealing it with a magical enchant so he could not use it anymore. Notifying him that any orb of the sindorei was not played with, not like he had. It was blasphemy to use it the way he had.

But the house alchemist was allowed to make more potions for him again. It allowed the imbiber to impersonate another. Apparently the appearance was random. She had seen him turn into a human, a troll, a night elf and one of the forsaken so far. The night elf scared her more than the forsaken did, mostly because he was tall and strong in that appearance.

Which he used for his new game when he summoned her to his private chambers. The thoughts of the night elf still made her tremble. The first time she was so scared she nearly burst out in tears. He didn't like a crying woman. That much he made clear when he hit her full in the face with a fist. The potion gave him the deceiving looks of a night elf male, and the strength to go with it. She was thankful he didn't turn into an orc, or she probably would not have survived the blow. His mother came to her rescue, making the house alchemist give her a healing potion to ease the bruises. A strange sort of rescue.

The mother liked using the dark spell as performing it came easy to her. It made Lohurin fall to his knees as he begged for mercy. The one time she used it on Anayis the girl made sure she never made the mother angry again.

Lilah Whitemorn wasn't the type of woman she wanted to disobey now she was part of the household. Not if she valued her life. The mother was feared more than the son. Compared to the mother the son was a whining child in her shadows. And if he behaved well, which he made sure he did, he could have anything he wanted. All he had to do was be his mothers gem.

That same gem was her husband. And here she was, standing in front of his rooms, hoping tonight would be the night she would receive a child to please both husband and mother in law. She tried to calm herself as she entered the room when the guard opened the door for her.

It was dark in the large chamber. All she could see was the open window that gave a gloomy view of the deathscar outside. "My dear…_wife_," he said, sitting in the dark of his chamber. He lit one simple candle on the table. The contours of the person were different as well as his voice she noted. Deeper for some reason. "It humbles me greatly to see you join me so…willingly, I was almost afraid I had to force you from you room after last time," he grinned, she could hear it. The soft wicked grin.

"My brother returned today," he said, waiting for her reply. She blinked when he mentioned his brother. "You liked my brother didn't you," he said to her. She swallowed uncertain. Whatever she was going to say now would settle his mood for the night.

"Tell me Anayis, did you ever get…_drained?_ Did he ever…stole the little magic you seem to posses? Because that is all he can do nowadays, steal mana to satisfy his needs." the way he said it made it sound disrespectful. "H-he did not," she said, unsure if that was what he wanted to hear. The shade chuckled. "Do not worry my dear. Perhaps we can share you once mother has returned him to his former glory. I might not be allowed to share you with my friends but she never said anything about my brother. He was even more handsome then me if he wanted. If its offspring she wants it should not matter if it is my seed you receive or that of my brother. You can please us both," coming out of the shadows he smirked. He was different. "Y-you have taken…a potion?" she guessed, fearful. He smiled at her. "You're so bright," he said, the silver colored eyes shining in the sockets of the face that wasn't his. "Right now you need to focus…on me…," he laughed, wickedly. When he stepped from the shadows he was the tall male night elf again.

"We never got a chance to see how well you did with the night elf, lucky it seems the potion chose this form for tonight….," Lohurin said, as he walked over to her. Anayis swallowed.

* * *

><p>Jeri sat on her couch, feeling miserable. Earlier she had scared off Adinna, who tried to do her best to comfort her. Jeri didn't want comfort right now….she wanted to throw things to the first person that dared to show his or her face through that door!<p>

Strategically she set herself on her couch, the small table in front of her littered with things she could use. Curled up behind the stack of horrible zehvra striped cushions she used to build a fort made it look like a chaotic pile in the corner of the couch. Knowing Jatfast was not coming back today, or anytime soon, she hoped somebody would show up.

And if somebody did show up she would not hesitate to throw. She hoped Greymur would show his ugly face. He deserved to be hit with something for abandoning her like that and picking his work and the bloody elf over their friendship. The purple vase would be suitable for his giant head she imagined. But she would feel best if she could throw some of the glass ornaments at the blood elf that started all of this.

But nobody showed up. Leaving her to sulk about the lack of attention. The room was quiet with only her in it. She felt the corners of her mouth pull down as she waited.

On the table lay also the stack of papers Adinna had so thoughtfully laid there before her, in hopes she would read it. Jeri muttered to herself she ought to decorate the walls with Jatfast his writings. Of all the erotic writers that made an attempt on writing a fluffy novel, he turned out to be Quickie McFingers. She loathed that name, without a real reason really. More because he hid it from her. How could she have missed out on that.

Being alone like this gave her that unwanted time to think. She didn't want to think about stuff, to reason with herself. Jeri looking around the living room for a moment. There was the bright pineapple-banana colored wallpaper that met with the black and white penguin wallpaper in the middle of the room where there was a crack in the wall. A crack that needed to be fixed she realized. Badly covered by the two very different sort of wallpapers. Something that never bothered her before, now it did.

They were like the bloody wallpaper. The comparison a bit strange, but she could see how they were different…

When they married people didn't advice them to use the combination of two different types of wallpaper together like that. But she and Jatfast did it anyway, because they liked it. The combination of wallpaper was as different as Jeri and Jatfast were. And she loved it!

Comparing herself with the colorful wallpaper that people did not advice her to take. And comparing Jatfast with the black and white wallpaper that made him hard to read and yet open like a book to her. Where she picked the colorful cheery pine-apple-banana wallpaper, Jatfast had said he wanted the penguin wallpaper. And where Jeri always thought she was the most colorful of the two of them, Jatfast suddenly stole her place in the spotlight by revealing he was in fact Quickie McFingers…

The crack in the wall left part of the wallpaper to curl up to the side, exactly how Jeri felt. Nothing matched and everything was falling apart.

"Explosive Nights…by Quickie McFingers," Jeri shuddered by pronouncing the name in a foul way. She tried to pronounce it in a deep voice, a high pitched voice, a pitying voice…realizing all the more it kept rolling of the tongue. It fitted, it was funny, recognizable. And it was her husband's imagination, about another woman…bah!

Her eyes kept finding the manuscript on the table. Living proof of a hobby her husband held. Apparently he was good enough to be published. "Bah!" she said again, sticking out her tongue. Not that it helped. Eventually she picked up the manuscript.

"Explosive Nights…" Jeri read it aloud again as she looked at that recognizable hard to read handwriting. Jatfast really did his best to try and write in a decent way with this, better then when she had him write a contract for her. He simply didn't have a very neat handwriting. The manuscript looked a bit messy, not something Jeri would ever deliver if she handed over a payment plan or a business proposal, nevertheless he tried to write his best. "By Quickie McFingers," she said it again, chuckling about the ridiculous name now, hoping it would sound less retarded. It didn't.

Her fingers followed the crude lines of the first words written down on the first paper. He used nice thick and expensive paper she realized when she looked at it. And he had tried to make great efforts in writing the curl of the Q she noticed. Jeri wondered how she could have missed out on seeing him practicing on that. Did she show so little interest in her own husband?

For somebody who detested writing so much the display of the Q was done with love. A rather clumsy attempt to write in a beautiful handwriting he did not have. She let her fingers run over the curl of the Q of his penname. With some reluctance she finally started to read it.

* * *

><p>The small brass box on top of the table moved. Trembling. It was hardly noticeable, but it moved. One of the Beach Bums looked at it with great interest.<p>

"Ey, Suarez, your tiny box is moving!" The fascination on the man's face was great. Suarez opened a lazy eye, settled in a lazy chair under an umbrella. He stretched his arms and legs before he sat up. The small box vibrated on its own once more. He stared at it, amazed that it still worked after all this time. The hum of the small brass box became louder, until it took up an annoying tone. The goblin softly tapped against it and grinned when it stopped.

"Woah... check it out dude…it grumbles! Like an imp in a box?" The Beach Bum asked with a lazy grin when the thing started trembling again to the mage his surprse. Suarez shook his head. "Invention of my own," he said.  
>"Cool man! Look at it! You really sure you have no demonic entity hidden in that copper casket?" he heard the man chuckle with a half-drunken drawled voice.<br>"No, that's just a disturbance in the three crystals that are in it the box. They need replacing. It used to make them vibrate if somebody wanted to get in touch with me," Suarez said and closed his eyes again to get back to sleep.

"An imp in a box, now there's an interesting story!" Arsenial looked in a small mirror as his mustache and beard were carefully trimmed by one of the Beach Bunnies. The human carouser occupied the chair next to Suarez. "Whatever, you keep finding stories everywhere," Suarez sniggered, laying himself back with his feet up. "I'm a writer, you know I'm always on the lookout for a good story," he said, almost pained that he got told off. "Yeah, I know the type of stories you write, I heard you read out for a few of your so called novels to our lovely ladies over here, in too much details if you ask me." Suarez mentioned, a half grin on his face. Arsenial played hurt as he flipped back his golden locks over his shoulder.

"You could be my muse Suarez," he tried, smiling those fake white teeth at him. Too white, especially for these surroundings. You could get noticed with teeth like that a mile away. "Leave me out of it! Pick somebody else to be your muse!" the mage said, not grinning anymore. Arsenial sighed. "You know I have been dying to write something about you, yet you deny me the luxury of a private one-on-one interview to do my research…you are so to say…an interesting person with an even more interesting past. Your story just cries out to be written Suarez. You cannot deny the world that piece of history!" He looked at his mustache in the mirror again, then looked at his beard as he nodded, trimmed enough.

"I don't want any part in your writing. Go and write why you are hiding out in a Horde settlement and what made you turn carousing and all. Now there's an interesting thought!" the mage said, closing his eyes. "I had a friend that used to do that, have a writing hobby. You know what happened to him?" Suarez said as he looked through the splits of his eyes at Arsenial. "He settled down in a town and was never heard off again," the hman snorted at him for that.

"Suarez dude! Look at your box! It moves again!" The Beach Bum looked delighted like a child, poking against the side of the small box. "What, again?" Suarez watched it, like the Beach Bum did. With fascination. It has been ages since the brass box trembled like this without the reason being disturbed crystals. He didn't think anything of it at first, but now he was doubtful. It would not make sense, nobody knew he was here and that he still had the brass box. Or at least nobody from outside his old bomb squad. Besides, nobody needed to know where he was hanging out right now. It was nothing. Just a disturbance in the crystals he told himself.

"Whatever it is you have in that box, it sure wants to come out," the Beach Bum announced. Suarez ignored it. Trying to enjoy the weather instead. Next to him there was a party going on. And his mood was good enough to mock Arsenial the man didn't have anything clever to say back at him. His lazy chair gave him the comfortable position of enjoy the merry music, smell the food that was grilled and having the noise of the sounds of the guests that were entertained by Silversnaps Beach Bums and Beach Bunnies in the background, he could sit here for hours. One of the Beach Bunnies leaned over to him and handed him a new drink with a purple umbrella in it. The BB's he called them. they were picked for their looks. Together with the smell of the goblin barbecue, a variety of alcoholic drinks with colorful umbrellas and the sea in their backyard this was the best way to enjoy a 'groovy' party.

At least Arsenial left him alone for now. Ever since the man came into town he annoyed him. Sureaz didn't feel like sharing his past with any human, especially not somebody who claimed he was a writer and a carouser in one sentence.

"Yo Suarez! You must feel this!" The Beach Bum said, holding the box in his hand as he looked hypnotized at it. "Are you sure there's no imp in there? That thing is sounding annoyed. How cool is that? I can feel the vibrations all the way through my hand," the man said with a lame grin. Arsenial watched him when he got up with a sigh. Suarez grumbled. The Beach Bum handed him back his small box. The mage mutter, now he had to check it out.

The crystals held magical energy. If they had been shaken too much he had to reset them one by one. Suarez felt the soft vibration himself. "Cool trinket, man," said the Beach Bum appreciative and walked back to do his job again, attend to his goblin barbecue. "Wake up call?" Arsenial mused in a soft voice. "Shut up," the mage snapped, which plastered a smirk to the human's face.

The mage left his comfortable spot as he walked off with his box in one hand, searching for a place where he would not be disturbed. There were only few who remembered to contact him this way. Ever since he managed to get himself 'lost' in the Swamp of Sorrows, looking for treasures, they left him alone. After his early retirement from the bomb squad he had too much time on his hands. And when his portal service was not paying enough to his taste via official channels, he found himself lost. It earned him barely enough to do what he wanted. Feeling too young to settle yet, he went for adventure instead. Like a lot of goblins Suarez Blastbolt had served in a goblin bomb squad. Years ago when the dark portal was opened. He and seven others had been part of BS 54. He always felt that their squad was special, since they all became friends at some point.

Every bomb squad unit was trained in explosives, dynamite, bombs of various types and sizes and trained in heavy artillery. If you were lucky you got somebody who knew first aid, but they were rare among the bomb squads. The squads were regularly sent on missions at times. Communication was hard between home front and the squad sent out. It wasn't only Suarez who found that a problem. Because communication was difficult during the missions they all got annoyed. In dangerous situations it was of the highest priority they could speak with each other and follow proper orders. Being a tinkerer by heart he threw it into the group one night when they were camping with other squads. Everybody agreed with him, there needed to be a solution for that problem. Although it wasn't as easy as they thought it would be.

They first tried to adjust the walkie-talkies that were used to communication during zeppelin flights. Their reach was too disturbed when the team tried it out. The larger communication devices weren't capable of being move-proof. Way to heavy to carry around on your back. It took a while to come up with an answer, but they eventually found a solution in the form of a group of ethereals in Outlands.

The ethereals were a bit similar to the goblins Suarez found out. Especially in the way their political system worked. And, like the goblins, ethereals had similar ideas about how they could best benefit from things.  
>Everyone who could possibly contribute to a profitable situation could try and negotiate for support from the ethereals in some way or another, but those with the right things got a deal. They used a similar sort of trade system he found out after spending a little time with two of them. Here the goblins came in handy with their engineering, mining, contracts and payment plans, but ethereals, they gave him a whole new name to technology. Even though their technology looked like that of the goblins the small differences were amazing. Suarez thought it was so much more powerful.<p>

Ethereals were called astral travelers and seemed to move easily between worlds, something goblins techknology seemed to miss. They simply did not have the same knowledge as the ethereals. They seemed collectors and dealers of mysterious objects and artifacts. Making the ways of obtaining these treasures all the more interesting to Suarez. But what interested him most was their knowledge of holographic communication.

Suarez and some of his friends had a few things they needed to take care off before a deal was made, but eventually they got hold of the blueprint of such a communication device in exchanged for some goblin engineering plans. Somehow the mage liked them, those ethereals. They proved to be as good and nasty as goblins. A nice bunch they were, using the eternal conflict between Horde and Alliance, Suarez thought them likeminded sometimes. Meanwhile they had a booming trade between both Alliance and Horde if they could help it, and abilities to discuss business with both factions without having to choose sides. Suarez loved their attitude.

He found the blueprint looked similar to gnomish engineering blueprints, unclear, but easy to build after decryption. The design seemed simple and effective enough, but proved to be rather curious as it was powered by special crystals the ethereals used.  
>Together with a large team of tinkerers they needed months of puzzling to improved the large device and turn it into a smaller version. All in the benefit of the bomb squads out there. Eventually they made the prototype able to talk over long distance, using different crystals. The crystals were easily obtained, Un'Goro Crater was filled with them.<p>

With specialized mechanic, engineers, blacksmiths and a couple of jewelcrafter they managed to get the Bling-o-box to work. The imp-in-a-box as they nicknamed it, since it gave a very annoying buzzing sound if the crystals were disturbed. It sounded like the muffled complaints of a warlock imp.

A mini holographic communication device, held in a small brass box that helped them to create the right magical energy field if you would make the blue, yellow and green crystals click together. If the box was closed you could plug in a small earpiece that was wired to the box. Provided the ability to communicate between team members on a mission. You could open the box and use the holographic image if you did not have the earpiece plugged in.

The holographic image only worked if the caller used the dust of a red crystal that was prospected by a jewelcrafter. You had to use the fine dust to create a chemical reaction between the three crystals. When the energy field was correct you had a long-distance communication possibility between the caller and the receiver. Primitive, but effective. And it did not explode.

They weren't able to create a better version. By then all the bomb squads were forced with early retirement. It was no fun working on a better version on your own. Not even when he had too much time on his hands. He simply lacked the challange and the brains to fit it all together. Something they had with the large group they formed for creating the first version. So the Bling-o-box was no longer needed. The members of BS 54 went their seperate ways. Those who didn't die during missions all seemed a bit lost. He rarely spoke to Buster anymore after that. Though it was still hard to hear when he was told the man managed to blow himself up.

It left him, Jatfast and Click as last members. Click eventually settled in Winterspring with a girl he picked up in the local tavern. Last he heard he was going to father his first offspring when Suarez received a letter from him. After that he never heard from Click again. So it was down to him and Jatfast.

Jatfast was a good friend. They ended up in Ratchet together, where they took the dirty jobs offered through the unofficial channels. It paid better. His idea of opening a portal service didn't go so well since portal competition was murderous. One day you could easily earn hundreds of gold while the other day you only made a couple of gold. He blamed the capital cities like Dalaran and their 24/7 portal use open to the public. Bloody wizards. He didn't want to waste more energy into his portal business if it didn't earn him anything. So he felt inspired by his other hobby. Treasure hunting. And the Swamp of Sorrows was exactly the place to look for treasure and dig for valuables. He simply 'disappeared' and he was thought lost in the swamp where people warned him not to go to. Leaving Jatfast in Ratchet.

In this stagnant swamp, where the ocean slowly seeped its way through the plants, there were many stories about wealth and magic. About a sunken troll temple, stories of magical artifacts and gold. Loads of gold. Things that made any healthy goblin automatically touch his money pouch and jingle it to listen to the soothing sound of coins playing music. It gave him the healthy greedy shine atfer listening to all the stoties. He wanted to find out if they were true. You could get lost in these swamps and never be found.

Ofcourse Suarez knew better then to give into the sudden gold fever and start digging anywhere. He had a plan. Unlike other treasure hunters that shared his hobby. So he went on a trip, not saying anything to anybody. To earn himself enough for the rest of his life, all he had to was find those magical artifacts and all that shining gold. It was speculated that among the lush vegetation of the swamp you could still find interesting things if you looked close enough.

Whether it was true or not he was going to find out when he chose for this journey. But beside the many crocolisk, boglords, swamp jaguars and other animals that flourished in this lush swamp, he found little treasure. Apart from the boggy ground that proved to be an ideal bed for the growth of many different herbs, there was nothing of value to him yet. Danger did not equal for instant treasure. Here you had to be alert for anything if you valued your life. Wandering creatures often hid among the vegetation and did guarantee you weren't on their menu if they had a chance. Even for a mage like Suarez it prooved hard enough.

He found a few half eaten corpses, bones from a foot, half a jaw, fingers, a dead skeleton of some large mammal. Nobody would ever know who they were or who they had been. Far away from civilization, forgotten by the rest of the world.  
>Suarez knew from very reliable sources that there was still the necessary smuggling routes around the swamp. Which could proof to be interesting. During his search for treasure he eventually stumbled onto Bogpaddle. A neutral place, according to Trade Baron Silversnap. This was the only beachfront with military-graded weapons to be found in all of Eastern Kingdom. If the Beach Bunnies and Bums were capable forces he did not know, but they sure managed to make your stay a party. And if you had any doubts about the neutrality of this place, the local Bruisers did not mind being helpful and whack you a few times to remind you of that.<p>

Suarez instantly liked this little village, situated on the Misty Reed Strand. He could get along with most of the locals. Even the carousers that had settled in with the goblins, allowed by Trade Baron Silversnap. Mostly because he earned a nice piece of gold by hiding them.

This was where he met Arsenial not long after he wandered into Bogpaddle himself. The goblin town offered him a temporary home, here he could think about his strategic plan of how to find all the treasure he wanted. Basically Arsenial came here for the same reasons, but could not show his face around the Alliance encampments anymore. Not after getting caught stealing. What exactly he stole he never said, but it was enough to hide in Boggpaddle for. Here the human was telling everybody who wanted to hear he was a writer, hiding from his many fans. Nobody would ever look for a writer in the middle of nowhere. In reality the man had written one novel. Suarez never heard of the book before. The only thing that annoyed him about the carouser was that he would not leave him alone. Arsenial was always around. When more then a few turns of all the seasons passed, he though the world would have laid him to rest by now, When he mentioned that by form of amusement Arsenial seemed obsessed with wanting to hear his life story.

And there was the wake-up call from beyond the grave.

The annoying buzzing tone of the small brass box that shocked him from his slumber. Because somebody out there seemed to find it necessary to find him again. Somebody with a similar device that he used to call him right now. The mocking words of the wake-up call echoing in his head as he stared at the box. Because tis time he was really called, he realized. Like the old days when they used the bras box for communication between team members in the bomb squads. This was really a connection with the outside world beyond the life he led in Bogpaddle. Disturbed by a person on the other side of that tiny brass box, someone who knew how the system worked.

Suarez eventually settled for a little more privacy behind one of the small round buildings to the side. Nobody would look for him there. In all excitement it took him long before he finally dared to open the lid of the small brass box.

The three colored crystals automatically clicked together when the box opened. The mechanism designed to do that. The annoying sound instantly stopped when the proper magical friction create the hologram. "Suarez?" he heard somebody say his name, pronounced in a hollow way. A blurry image of someone formed between the points of the crystals. An image so tiny he could not really tell who it was. "Suarez? Is that you? Damned, that took you long enough!" Suarez suddenly recognized the voice. It was the complaining that gave him away.

"Jatfast?" A big grin formed on his face when he heard the annoyed voice on the other side. Yes, this was defiantly one of his old mates. "I was sure my box was broken, but I'm hearing your nagging voice again, Jatfast my man, how have you been?" Suarez grinned when he heard Jatfast mutter. "Long time no seen! How are you? Still treasure hunting?" The goblin grinned. Jatfast had always been curious.  
>"To what do I owe the pleasure? Nobody else seems to remember this form of communication anymore. Or I hoped they forgotten about me by now," Suarez said. "It's old fashioned, but nostalgic, can't get rid of it. Too much memories. And you always pop up in my memories when I look at it, Suarez, you know how much I love you," Jatfast said sarcastically. Suarez laughed hard. They had been close friends. Jatfast seemed the only one who could understand that Suarez could not commit himself to a permanent residence with an official job after retirement. Unlike Jatfast, who did settle. He always liked the sly rogue.<p>

"Wait," Jatfast heard Suarez say. He shook the box a bit, disturbing the imagine of the hologram. He blew into the brass box, a cloud of dust made him sneeze, making the imagine disappeared briefly. When the crystals jumped back in place it resulted in a better and cleared hologram. "There, now I can see you properly again," Suarez said and chuckled. He saw Jatfast his large protruding nose. Although the picture lacked color the rogue still wore his greasy hair in a tight ponytail.

"Well, you still look as ugly as I remember you!" Laughed the other, Jatfast chuckled in return. "My wife's sister came up with an interesting fact that reminded me of you," he said. "And what is that?" Suarez was curious.  
>"They are reforming the bomb squads. Possibly in Area 52. They apparently found them useful enough to restart them again. Can't go without a good bomb squad. I thought you might like to know, in case your treasure hunting didn't pay off." He sounded satisfied as Suarez did not believe his ears. "How did Jeri know that?" he countered. "Not Jeri, her sister. She has family in Area 52, the fourth sister," was the response. Both Suarez and Jatfast laughed hard. "Obviously. Jeri and her family ties. You sure knew who you chose when we went back to Ratchet didn't you? Did you say you were married?" The image of Jatfast face nodded.<p>

"Bold! Why was I not invited?" Suarez asked, almost offended. "You wanted to go on a treasure hunt. Or last you told me of some grand plan or yours. Nobody seen you in years! How could I ask you to be my best man when you were off lost in some weard place hunting swamp oozes and legends? You didn't have time to sit down for a proper meal without feeling restless. In the time you were gone I got married," the goblin rogue simply answered. Suarez remembered Jeri. It was when he, Jatfast and the rest of their team had been trained in Ratchet he met her. Jatfast fell head over heels in love with Jeri when he saw her.

"At least you married a hot chick," Suarez complimented him. For Jatfast early retirement had not been quite the same. He always wanted to return to Ratchet and see if the chemistry between him and Jeri was there. And it was. He always told her he quit the bomb squad to come back to her, it made her feel special.

"So they are reforming the old units to new bomb squads again? Probably with far more advanced technology then we had back then?" Suarez found it somewhere difficult to hear that their old job had been given new life. "I thought you might want to know. You can always go and check if they are in need of "old" veterans like us. They could make good use of your knowledge," Jatfast sounded like he had thought about it carefully.

"We aren't that old yet!" Suarez complained. No they weren't, but according to bomb squad rules you were too old when you had served for more than five years and had not been blown up. It proved you were smart enough to do another job and a waste to be used for fodder. You got a thank you and was sent off with early retirement to be replaced by younger and fresh blood.

"I bet you did not only contact me to tell me that," came the reply. The holographic image shook his head. "I actually wanted to ask you something," he said and paused. The other goblin stroked his chin with a green hand as the silence continued. "If you want to ask something it usually involves something dangerous doesn't it?" He laughed. "I'm leading a less dangerous life these days, you know, for Jeri's sake. Can't do without her," Jatfast gave him an all knowing grin. Suarez shook his head. "Sucker!" he called out to him.

"Besides that, how are portal prices these days? Still high?" Suarez wanted to know, half gambling that it could have something to do with that. "They went nuts lately. Especially since they closed down a lot of the normal portals between Outlands and Northrend. It's mostly zeppelin flights or travel by foot if you want to get anywhere. People are primarily dependent on the zeppelin flights," he said. That was interesting information.  
>"Wizzle has gone insane with his prices," Jatfast complained loudly.<p>

"How insane?" Suarez expected the real reason why Jatfast contacted him to come up any moment now. "Ridiculous weird," Jatfast grumbled, giving Suarez an indication of the price tag Wizzle dared to charge for portal services. After hearing that Suarez agreed that it was a bit over the top to charge so much gold for a single spell. "He told me that it was in conflict with the legal ways of removing the dead," Jatfast said. "You're a mage, you can jump portals if you want. How about earning some extra cash?" And there it was, the real reason.

"So outside your social chat you're actually looking for someone who can help you with a portal?" Suarez guessed. He had expected something like that when he found himself talking to Jatfast on the other side of his communicator. Jatfast nodded briefly. "What do you need to have done?" was the question. Suarez was always interested in working out a deal that held a profit.

"Do you remember the other job? Field cleaners we were called?" Suarez could still remember that. Field cleaning was mostly defusing explosives that had not gone off. But it was also retrieving the wounded and the dead and collect any body parts they came across. Money had been good as a member of BS 54. Much better than a regular job. Mostly because of the high risks of losing your life. "Are you asking me to do some field cleaning?" Suarez wanted to know. "It's not exactly like that. It's moving coffins to Undercity," he said mysteriously. "Of all the people I know you can make that a legal job?" he laughed, a suitable job for Jatfast.

"Whaaat? I needed money! It wasn't as if we got a pension or anything. I could not provide Jeri with the money she needed. Jeri is an expensive woman. We were retired too early and there they left us to venture for ourselves. No money, no nothing! Do you have any idea how hot the Barrens becomes in the middle of summer? You don't want any dead people waiting to be burried around Ratchet, gives so much dirt to deal with. Gazlowe preferred to minimize the graves in Ratchet, mostly because of the smell. When the former corpse clearer died I was the only candidate for the job. And why not, it's well deserved, not a goldmine, but enough. Some forsaken called Jonas came up with the great idea that Undercity could use the spare body parts or raise any dead as a new forsaken. It's not exactly as if any forsaken can reproduce anymore, and this way we were both helped!"Jatfast explained, defended himself. Suarez thought it was great for Jatfast.

"But now there is a question that remains! And I might have a great deal for you, Jatfast began."How would you like to earn some fast money on this deal? What would you say if I was looking for a solid partner mage to create me portals? Agreeing to a price upfront so we won't fight over money in the end. Leaving me to do my work and earning you a nice amount for simply performing a spell?" Suarez was quiet after that information.  
>"You ask me to postpone my treasure hunt to help you out with portals and coffins?" he asked, almost incredulously. "What? If you would have found the jackpot you would came back from the dead and rubbed it in our faces. Probably retiring yourself in some fancy place surrounded by more then one hot chick by now. But you haven't have you? People presume you're dead Suarez!" Jatfast said. The mage figured. Instead Suarez snickered. He would have done that for sure.<p>

"You can move yourself around by simply performing a travel spell!," Jatfast countered him in annoyance. "Perhaps you should have learned the mysteries of being a mage yourself," Suarez laughed, knowing that Jatfast never had the patience or aptitude for learning spells. "Yeah yeah, laugh, at least I got a hot chick that digs leathers!" he sneered. It made the goblin mage shake his head about the image.

"Alright, how much would it earn me?" Suarez wanted to know. Jatfast grinned. The amount of money he mentioned made Suarez whistle, it sounded tempting enough to want to think about it. Not as good as what he had been paid in BS 54, but profitable. "If you help me drag those coffins through you get extra payment for your trouble," he said. "But I need a fixed price on the portals," Jatfast claimed.

"How often would you need it?" he asked. Jatfast shrugged. "Depends on how many people die around here ofcourse," he grinned. "If not here then there is always Booty Bay that require our services at times," he said. Suarez scratched his head. Doing a quick math calculation in his head. With enough portalrunes he could easily travel up and down for a job like that, earning back the money for buying them in large quantities. He had portal aces to Stonard, which made it easy to travel to Bogpaddle again by flight. All he had to do was travel the short distance between Orgrimmar and Ratchet to show his face at the appointed place they needed him. Sounded interesting enough.

"Can you book me a flight between Orgrimmar and Ratchet to avoid having to stand in line when its busy?" was his question. Jatfast gave him a sinister grin. "Have I ever not been able to arrange anything?" he replied. The mage could not remember. "I think I can leave my treasure hunting for a couple of days and do a side job," Suarez said. It had been quite a while since he visited Orgrimmar and Ratchet. If people assumed him dead the reactions would be great. And the idea of seeing an old friend appealed for some strange reason. "Really?" Jatfast almost sounded relieved. "Yeah. Sounds like fun. Maybe your wife can tell me a bit more about that news from her sister concerning Area 52 and the renewal of those bomb squads," Suarez went on.

"Sure she can," Jatfast promised. "Tell me, when?" Jatfast's imagine was disturbed a bit for a moment. It looked like the man was moving his head around in slow motion. "Next week this time in Ratchet if you can. I will arrange that flight for you," Jatfast said, his voice breaking up. Suarez knew the dust of the red crystal was probably used up. ""I'll be there. Have some beer ready when I come!" he laughed to the hologram that seemed to have trouble maintaining its shape.

"I will,_and _I will ask Jeri to cook for you, so you're reminded what it's like to eat normal food!" he heard Jatfast brag. Suarez seemed slightly amused to hear Jatfast adapted to home cooking so well. He forgot to mention that the food out here wasn't that bad. "Next week…," the imagine broke off and he lost connection with Jatfast. He would be there.

Something stirred in the shadow of the building where he stood. "Keeps getting more and more interesting every time I see you," Arsenial worked on his nerves when he showed his face. "What are you doing? Spying on me or something?" The mage looked angered. The man held up his hands. "No, no, nothing like that. But I heard enough to know you are heading out to Ratchet and going to do a job with a friend. Involving traveling by portals…which you create," he said, turning a point of his trimmed mustache. "I didn't know you were a mage," he said, interested. "What's it to you?" Suarez asked in an annoyed tone.

"Nothing, I was just wondering if I could persuade you to take a friend on a little journey to Ratchet, always wanted to see that place. They say it's a bigger party there," Arsenial mused. Suarez eyed him. "I can pay you for opening up a portal for me ofcourse…or you could be a good friend and open one up for me on friendly terms. I'll stop nagging you about your story forever!" he promised. The mage pondered the offer for a moment.

"And all I do is let you step through my portal? Deal," Suarez said, sticking out his hand. "If I ever catch you nagging about wanting to write my story again, I will sent you through a portal to freaking Orgrimmar. They aren't so neutral with humans there," he said with this wicked grin. Arsenial frowned. "I'm sure you are true to your word," he looked at the mage as he shook the hand firmly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: The love of a parent.  
><strong>  
>"I'm going to Undercity!" Hurias announced with a mix of excitement and nerves when he walked into Greymur's house. Jatfast followed after him. They found the grey hunter chopping up a meaty leg in the kitchen and Riselle sitting at the small sized table. Hurias stared at her when their eyes met, making him look away first as he blushed again. Riselle looked difficult after that. It was very clear she could not pretend she misunderstood his intentions with all the blushing he did.<p>

Greymur told her earlier that Hurias probably had a serious case of being in love with her. Something she could not quite place. He hardly knew her. Greymur knew more about her than Hurias did!

But it was more clear when she observed the slumbering symptoms for herself. The orc said he never seen his friend like this. Not even after an accidental one night stand Hurias had in a drunken mood with a woman traveling through Ratchet. That the elf wasn't very open about relations and very strict minded about certain things already showed. She dreaded the moment he would bring it up. Or worse, that she had to bring it up. Unsure what to tell him. Mostly worried about his response if she was going to tell him that the feeling was not mutual.

When he entered she automatically went into defensive mode. Crossing her arms in front of her and trying to look busy. When he blushed she felt more awkward then before.

Hurias wasn't a bad looking man. Thank goodness he wasn't a womanizer. In her eyes he was a very shy youngster, far too young to even consider having feelings for. She bit her lip, hearing her own mother talk the way she was thinking. Whatever feelings he held, she did not share them. He felt more like the younger sister she left at home. Ravahra was probably not much younger then Hurias she figured, since Ravahra was almost considered an adult. She would be one next summer.

Hurias hesitated for a moment, while Greymur and Jatfast were discussing something. She saw him ponder if it was alright for him to sit opposite of her at the table. Riselle felt he had more right to sit there then she did. But she didn't say anything and remained seated. Thankful for Rena, who barked for attention, when the elf didn't respond to her nose in his hand instantly. It did make her smile for a moment, seeing the persistent wolf try to get a snack from the elf.

She took the moment to turn her attentions to Greymur and Jatfast. Listening to the loud voice of the goblin."He's going to be my apprentice for this trip, well sort of. To see if we can make a proper business man out of him," Jatfast seemed in high spirits with that thought. "The boy needs an occupation does he not? What better then to learn from me," Jatfast pointed his rather large nose forwards, making him look very unattractive the way he posed being proud. Greymur raised a brow when he looked at the two of them.

"So, how's Jeri?" he asked instead. Turning the subject back to why the elf went there in the first place. When Jatfast's mood dropped it gave him a good idea of what happened. "She's having some…alone time, so to say," was Jatfast's reply. "I see," he nodded. Alone time was Jatfast's description for a fight and giving Jeri space to grumble.

"Undercity Hurias?" he repeated, turning to Hurias now. The elf nodded silently, patting Rena on her head and avoiding to look at Riselle. "That's a good thing, expanding your horizon," he agreed as Hurias gave him a curious glare. "Pretty boy here seems scared of Undercity, but I'll fix that for him," Jatfast said in an amused tone. "Don't accidentally trade him for something weird in Undercity," Greymur said in a certain tone, as Jatfast grumbled in reply. "Who do you think I am, Greymur?" the rogue said, semi hurt. "I'd say a sly rogue," was Greymur's answer. Riselle chuckled softly. Jatfast could not help but sound annoyed when he looked at Greymur. "So little trust orc, and you call yourself a true friend!" he said as if he was blamed for something.

"I am your friend. But I also look out for the persons I value. And Hurias is high on my list. I'd hate to hear about chopped off limbs or sudden elves traded in Undercity," he said in a dry tone. It made Hurias stand up straight and smile. The hunters smirk working on Jatfast nerves. "Yeah yeah, he'll be back in one piece. I'll guarantee his safety, no harm will come to him in Undercity, bla bla bla," the rogue said.

"Good, I'll keep an eye out for Jeri if you want," Greymur promised with that same grin. It eased Jatfast mood a bit, as his expression softened. "She'll like that," he said in a normal voice.

"Come Hurias, you need to learn a few tricks before we can go. Opportunity is the word you're looking for," the goblin rogue said, making a gesture to the door. "We'll start with portal prices," they heard him say. "And I have just the person you can work for that job, because Wizzle is a sick portal abuser with too much coins up his arse for charging the prizes he does and you're going to tell him we will no longer do business with him," he said with that wicked grin. With that they left the house again, preparing for the trip to Undercity.

Greymur was silent after his door finally closed. He seated himself with a small wooden chopping board at the table and place all the parts of the skinned hare neatly in a row. Cleaning his knife on the rag he carried over his shoulder he eyed Riselle, who looked curious at the meat.

"Would you like a part?" Greymur offered, pointed at a raw piece of meat. Riselle glared at the animal on the wooden plank. "Do you eat it raw?" she wondered. "I can eat it raw, but somehow I doubt you will enjoy raw meat!" He laughed when she shivering with the obvious thought. "I'll spice it for you. It's Rena's share of her hunted prey to me," he explained. Riselles expression told him enough. She had no clue about the bonds between hunters and their pets.

"Rena hunted down a couple of hares this morning," Greymur chopped up the pieces of meat with his sharp looking knife. "And she allowed you to have one?" To Riselle the mere thought of Rena offering him meat sounded bizarre. "Ofcourse, that's how the bond works between us. I'm sharing my food with her and she returns the favor," he said, as if it made sense to her they were equals. He made it sound normal. "If I tell you about becoming a paladin, does it sound as strange as this does to me?" she asked him. He laughed. "Try me, who knows I might know more about being a paladin then you think," he said. Imagining Greymur as a paladin didn't make sense at all. So she laughed with him.

He continued chopping the meat to small pieces. She noticed he opened a green bag filled with different kinds of herbs. She could smell the variety of them. It wasn't unpleasant. He chose specific ones that he chopped up and spiced the meat with. Whipping his sticky fingers from the juices on the rag again, before standing up to get a bowl from one of the cabinets. "It will be silent with them gone for a while. But it will be good to have Jeri alone. Perhaps she will be reasonable without Jastfast around," he said. Riselle doubted that, but Jeri was Greymur's friend and he knew her best. All Riselle knew was Jeri's fists.

"I noticed Hurias had trouble when he saw me," she admitted eventually. Greymur nodded. "You'll figure it out," he said.

"Anything specific you need to do for today?" he asked her to get her mind more at ease. She nodded. "I need to seek out Zanak," she said, holding up her wrist with the transmitter on it. His mutter made her smile. He didn't like Zanak, so much was clear. To her surprise he said:"I'll come with you. Meanwhile these can adjust to the spices." Walking over to a bucket of water he held in his kitchen area as he washed his hands in it.

"I thought you didn't like Zanak," she said softly. "I don't. But I want to be sure he does not do something strange to that system you're wearing. And I was told not to let you out of my sight, so I'm coming along," he said. He seemed more at ease now Jatfast and Hurias were gone for a while. It seemed to come more natural to him to be in control of himself and what he wanted if he was in a mood like this. Unlike herself. She was too busy in her head with figuring out what to do next.

"If I'm there he will probably hurry things up," Greymur said with a smirk. "Worst thing that can happen is him inviting us to stay for dinner," the hunter said, which made Riselle wondered. "Refuse him in a polite way, unless you wish to taste blown up lobster cooked with dynamite instead of spiced hare meat," he suggested. She smiled. It was good to see her smile. When she talked about her brother the other night he noticed that too. She started with talking about her brother, but eventually she told him about her family and the way things were at home, explained a little bit about her situation. Even so she spoke with love about all of them.

"Would you tell me about Twilight Highlands?"she asked, subtile. She already filled him in on more of the situation. And while she was talking the other night, she got to know him a little better. He seemed an easy listener. Perhaps after they came back from Zanak he felt inclined to tell her a little bit about his clan. Riselle was a little curious. Greymur smirked. "Perhaps, if I'm in the right mood," he said. "Perhaps if you tell me more about this mother and her son?" he asked straight to the point. Her smile disappeared as sudden as it had shown up.

"I felt there was more to your story," he admitted. She blushed slightly. "Now let's get that system checked and avoid any special dinner plans Zanak always comes up with," he grinned. It left Riselle to think about how to bring things.

If her parents could see her like this, her mother would probably have a heart attack. Ravahra would love the strangeness of the situation, Rotharian would joke around and her father would not utter a word of approval for what he would call very pour circumstances. She smiled at the thought of her whole family being in Ratchet.

* * *

><p>Ivorian felt years older when he sat himself down at his desk. In his hand he still held the crumbled note, signed by a Shadowborn and sealed with the Shadowborn seal. It made him uneasy when he first read it. Even though the date on the note was months ago, it pained him more and more to read of a meeting between his wife and a Shadowborn. He didn't know much of the Shadowborn family. Only that they were a middle class family where the head of the family had a high position somewhere in Northrend and that one of the sons was a Blood Knight in Silvermoon. Nothing special. How could he not have seen it coming.<p>

Suddenly the distance his wife had created between them made sense. Her silent anger was probably her way of fighting him he realized. It felt like the foundation of his marriage collapsed underneath him. She had always been his great support. His pillar. His strength in running the family. She was like him, a believer of the old ways, forced to live in the new ways after they returned from Outlands to seek out their prince. The shame was overwhelming if he thought about what he found there.

That was nothing compared to what he faced in his own house now he realized. It started with the note he found, when he went into her private chambers to fetch something. He never came there without her consent. For some strange reason he did that day. And found the note together with her journal, carefully wrapped together with a ribbon, stashed away in one of her drawers. She had carefully sealed it with a spell. He took the whole book, as well as the note after he read it.

In his study he dispelled the simple spell she used on her journal. It held more notes he did not read yet, but in front of him lay living proof of his wife having an affair!

Hisl back felt painful. His temper rising. His fingers itching slightly as his trembling hands were already reaching for the drawer where he kept his crystals hidden. How could he not have seen she betrayed him. And for how long?

He stopped himself from opening the drawer suddenly, sinking his head in his hands instead. The vein to the side of his head pulsing harder than usual. The headache would not go away. Usually he would feel this way after his children pushed him over the edge. How often did they not make him angry, how often had that vein not meant terrible headaches when he concerned himself over the future of his children. Now his wife was the third source of his sorrow. He could hardly believe she had an affair behind his back.

How selfish she seemed in his eyes. He didn't find himself a very unreasonable husband? Ofcourse he demanded certain respect from her and the children, but that was his right as a father and head of the household.

He could still see Riselle standing in front of his desk, defending her case as she told him she was pregnant. A proud and stubborn copy of himself with a mild flavor of her mother assets in her. And he roared at her, for being a fool. For sharing her bed with a strange man and getting herself in trouble like this. How unlike his own daughter, he thought he taught her better than that. Perhaps he had been too rushed, too angered when he made his decision. Telling her she was no longer welcome now she got herself in trouble. In fact, she was no longer his daughter he remembered himself saying to her. He bit his lip, it wasn't unreasonable to be angered with his daughter was it?

All he did was tell her he would not support her. She was disgracing the family, like his eldest son had done before her. He told her the truth! That was his right as her father as well! It was her punishment for not listening to him. She as his daughter should see he was concerned for her. That he had spoken in anger at both of them.

Truth was their family fell in disgrace after he returned from Outlands, because people started to talk about the father having a problem containing his addiction for arcane magic. The second disgrace was when his son told him he wished to be a warrior rather than a mage. And when rumors came to him about his daughters pregnancy he felt they took him for a fool. But it was true. Riselle refused to tell him who the father was, but he found out after Lilah Whitemorn talked to him after a Council meeting. Right after he told Riselle she wasn't welcome anymore. How the woman loved telling him that his daughter was considered a local tavern wench if she decided to keep the baby.

Strangely Lilah Whitemorn also offered to take Riselle in for the period of her pregnancy. She would be safe and out of sight from Silvermoons gossip. He thought it a good idea at the time, but his wife was against it. She told Lilah Whitemorn to mind her own business. His disgrace was complete when he received news they had voted to remove him from the Silvermoon Council for several reasons. He shook his head. If only he could forget about all of that.

Riselle had been long gone by that time. She was last seen in Tranquillien in Ghostlands. Or so the rangers told him when he asked about his daughter. She was the crown to the ruin of their family. He would never admit that he was the culprit of their disgrace, is pride prevented him. Instead he pointed fingers, knowing very well he was wrong. Maintaining your pride was more important he felt. Though finding out his wife probably had an affair did not make him very sure of that pride anymore. It was easier to think his son didn't try hard enough with magic then admitting he did not have a talent for magic. It was easier to believe that his daughter gave herself away and was too stubborn to think she could managed raising a bastard child without the support of her family, because he would make sure she would she would do it on her own if it were up to him. And it was easier to think his youngest daughter would always remain so naive as to believe anything her parents told her.

That his wife sought comfort in the worst of times in another man's arms, left him to believe he was the victim of it all. He blamed Ellearis for their temper. Both Riselle and Rotharian shared their mothers temperament he kept telling himself, while he knew very well that both of them also held his pride and his stubbornness. Denying such facts was always easier.

But no matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn't justify it for himself. It kept sounding like it was his fault. Sitting at his desk he had to admit that his rushed actions might have made him decide things he could have avoided. Or perhaps had pushed his wife away from him in the long term. But he would not admit that openly, it would add up to the disgrace he already felt. So he left it at that, admitting to nothing.

"Father?" The knock on the door made him quickly hide the journal and the note. The door opened not long after that. "Ravahra, my precious gem," he said with a tired voice. A small female entered the room. She was dressed in a blue robe that suited her with elegance. "Can I get you anything, father?" The small hand that rested on his shoulder belonged to his youngest daughter. Ravahra was still growing into adulthood. She had long auburn hair that spilled over her back in soft curls. Her face was small, like her mothers. The eyes a light green instead of the intense emerald green he seemed to have. Ivorian looked at his daughter. Innocent, he thought. She showed respect towards her father. Which gave him the feeling he had done something right.

She could not look more like Riselle then she did now he realized. It made his heart almost break when he looked at Ravahra. Reminding him again and again how foolish he was. He could not give her a smile when she gave him a hopeful look. "Nothing," was all he said to her. Orders, he was good at giving orders. And denying the truth. Ravahra's hand remained on his shoulder, long enough for him to lay his hand on top of hers, if only for the feeling of comfort.

"They will turn up father. They always come home," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sure you are right my daughter, now I would like some privacy, go check your mother for me if you please," he said. She left his study and closed the door behind her. Leaving him on his own. Perhaps this time they would not come home. Both his children were gone. Blame, they all blamed him. His eyes read the note again and again. "Meet me in the Bazaar," it signed . The wax seal broken. Shadowborn, he had to deal with Shadowborns now…how could she do this to him?

* * *

><p>"Mother?" Ravahra knocked on her mother's door now. A soft delicate knock. "Enter," she said, as Ravahra showed her face around the corner. "Father wanted me to ask you if you needed anything," she said. Ellearis shook her head.<p>

"Your father doesn't do you credit by having you run as his messenger around the house. You should be studying Ravahra. Besides, he could have asked himself!" Ellearis shook her head. "Why does that man not understand what I'm trying to show him?" she said out loud. Ravahra didn't know what her mother meant, but it didn't sound very nice. "You can tell your father he can come alone if he wishes to speak to me. He does not need to sent you for that," she decided. Ravahra knew the majority of the grief her mother was in, but not all. She also knew her parents weren't on good terms together. At least not for now.

"I will tell him something he likes to hear, he's been so sad lately," she said. Ellearis mouth became a stripe. It served him right to feel sorry for himself she thought, not sharing her thoughts this time. "Don't worry about your father, he will be fine," was her reply.

"I will be out this afternoon, your father does not need to know of this," she said to her daughter, who nodded. "Is there more news?" her eyes glittered, but her mother had to tell her no. It grieved her to see Ravahra like that. Any hint of Riselle or Rotharian's whereabouts were followed by the third child. "I miss them mother," she said.

"I know my sweet daughter. I know. I hope they will have news, but your father cannot know about this, he would disapprove of the methods I use," she told her youngest daughter. "Do you think Riselle gave birth to the baby by now?" Ravahra looked at her mother. Another subject the fsather did not wish to discus. If it was Ellearis last say ow, she would instandly get her daughter back to Silvermoon, with or without the baby. If it meant she would have her daughter and an additional grandson or granddaughter, so be it. She would have accepted it, leaving her husband last to follow. But that was not the way it happened. Instead she let her husband drive Rotharian out for chosing for himself, and then he drove Riselle away.

When she first found out she told Riselle to leave the baby in the orphanage and beg for her father to return home. But her eldest daughter did not, she was as stubborn as Ivorian. Or perhaps as both her parents she realized. "I don't know if Riselle gave birth to the baby my sweet daughter, I only know that I made grave mistake by letting your father be the final judge of her fate," she said to Ravahra instead.

Riselle was very clear when she said she was not going to give up the child. It made Ellearis both proud and worried about her stubborn daughter. The last reports the rangers gave her told how Riselle went towards the Plaguelands. After that last report there was only silence. Nobody seen her and none of the people she sent out came back with any useful information. It was as if she disappeared from the bottom of the surface.

Perhaps her luck would change today. A messenger came with a note this morning. When she broke the Shadowborn seal it told her to meet her at Saltheril. She did not share that information with her youngest daughter, the pain of yet another fruitless message would grief her too much.

Ellearis added a last pin to finish her elaborated hairstyle. Two light green eyes stared back at her in the mirror to a beautiful face that looked sad. Ravahra brushed the end of her mother's hair that wasn't pinned in the fascinating hairdo. "Your father will come to his senses," she said. "Father has not been well. He blames himself more than ever," she said.

"He should," Ellearis said quietly, her usual reserved expression angered. Ravahra looked at her mother, almost in shock. Surely she didn't mean that. "Mother, he feels everybody is lost to him, all that are left are you and me. Please don't push him away," Ravahra pleaded. Ellearis blamed her husband for involving Ravahra into this. The girl had done nothing but try and sooth their moods, keeping up the spirits while she clearly missed both her brother and sister.

"My sweet daughter, you should focus on your studies with your friend. It is important you learn those spells," Ellearis didn't want to think they would lose Ravahra as well. Ravahra nodded, like the good daughter she was. Ellearis wondered if Ravahra would ever stand up to them like Rotharian and Riselle had. She hoped not. Ellearis loved all her children, but Riselle was always the hardest to cope with. Riselle was intelligent but so stubborn!

She didn't share that with any of the family. Like she didn't share many of her thoughts with anybody. She would never talk about with her youngest daughter. Ivorian would only find it inappropriate to have Silvermoon talk about a search for a daughter with a child and a son that refused to step into his father's footsteps. She considered her husband as somebody that wasn't capable of thinking straight right. That didn't mean she could not think straight.

After Ravahra left Ellearis continued dressing herself in a dark purple robe, finished with golden embroidery. It suited her slim and elegant figure. The necklace she added really finished it. The dark cloak she wore around her shoulders was made of a light fabric, yet warm. The walk towards the stables went smoothly, nobody saw her. The purple hawkstrider stood waiting for her, saddled as she agreed with. The stable hand made sure he left the hawkstrider in its stable. He was nowhere to be seen, like she requested. That way he could never testify he had seen her leave. Which was good.

The bird pecked his feathers, making a soft quacking sound when he recognized his rider. "Hello my pretty," Ellearis patted his beak gently as she lead her hawkstrider out of the stables. The hawkstrider came willingly, waiting for her to seat herself in the saddle before she gave him free reins to run.

She had an appointment with somebody.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: Friendly gesture**

"Jeri?" Jewels stepped into a dark house where all the curtains were closed. It made it hard for her to see where she was going in the half dark surroundings Jeri managed to create. Not that she didn't know her way around, it was more taking the first step because it always ended up like this when Jeri and Jatfast had a fight over something. Jeri could argue over very insignificant things, or over nothing. It didn't really matter. As long as she could yell when she needed it. Jewels knew her sister too well.

Adinna made the right choice to tell her about Jeri's mood. That was what family was for. If anybody could talk her out of this sulking mood, it would be Jewels.

"Jeri?" she called again. There was movement in the living room, she could hear noises. The bang of something that was knocked over. The grumble of a muffled voice not trying to cry out in pain. After that there was silence again.

"Jeri? I'm coming in!" Jewels announced and stepped through the living room door. The first thing that hit her was a large ball of crumbled paper. It bounced against her shoulder and fell on the ground with a soft thud. "Go away!" was the reaction. At least Adinna didn't exaggerate when she said Jeri was in one of her horrible moods. "You say that to your own sister?" The answer was another mutter. Jewels knew it came from somewhere on the cough, like always.

"Sweetie, do we really need to go through with this?" she asked. "Yes!" came the sulking reply. "I never want to see Jatfast again!" she cried out. Jewels raised an eyebrow and smiled, knowing Jeri never meant that. "Ofcourse you don't. Go on, tell me what he did this time?" she asked, following the Jeri-warzone-safety-protocol. That described how to handle a badly tuned Jeri with the greatest care necessary to keep her from exploding right in your face. Jewels did it many times before, knowing this would not be the last time. But she was the Jeri expert of all of her sisters.

"He kept secrets from me!" Jeri said in a muffled tone. Jewels shook her head. "Sweetie, there will be thousands of times you will face this, if you live long enough. Trust me, it's not worth it!" Jewels said. "**Don't you lecture me, Jewels**! I'm the one at war here! He will be back any moment, even though I don't want to see him anymore. But I know he will! He never lasts more than two days without me!" she announced stubborn. Jewels

"I think he will be gone for a little longer than that, since he went to Undercity this morning for a job. Adinna told me," she said. There was silence.

"**He did what**?" Jeri's voice sounded horrified. There was more silence before Jeri threw another ball of crumbled paper that hit Jewels on the point of her green nose. "Enough with the childish behavior, let's shed some light on the case," she walked over to the window to open the curtains and let in the afternoon sunlight. When she opened all of them she could finally see the messy pile of papers on the table in front of the couch, the weird colored ornaments piled up, ready to be thrown. And ofcourse the cushion fort Jeri build herself from the zhevra striped cushions.

"Come out of there," Jewels said, taking one away. Jeri's face became visible, her purple painted lips a stripe. "How can he do this to me? He's such an inconsiderate bastard!" Jeri claimed, throwing another cushion to the ground. She looked silly as she sat there. "Let it cool off, he'll be back, he always is," Jewels said, clearing out the rest to create a spot for herself to sit. "I can't believe this! Everybody is abandoning me!" Jeri whined loudly. Jewels put her arms around her sister, holding her tight for a moment. Step one of pulling her out of that miserable mood that she circled around in.

"Are they?" she asked, sounding like the sensitive woman she was. "Yes," Jeri pouted. "First Greymur, choosing that ugly elf bitch over me. Then Hurias conspiring with Jatfast behind my back. And if you think you had enough, Jatfast is keeping secrets for himself!" she complained loud and hard. Like she always did when she knew she was in the wrong as well.

"Don't you have secrets you don't wish to share with him?" she asked, knowing Jeri had many of those. Jeri snorted. "That is not the point here! He's my husband, he's not supposed to have secrets from me! I'm supposed to have secrets from him, that's a woman's job, not a man's! Certainly no secrets like these!" she looked devastated as she held up the written version of a story about miss Jade in the jungle.

"Ah, the infamous stories by Quickie McFingers," Jewels smiled. Jeri stared at her. "You…you knew about that?" Jeri could not believe this. She crossed her short arms in front of her as she placed Jewels in a new light. "You traitor! You kept that from me all this time?" Jewels gave her a wink. "Ofcourse I knew about it. How else did you think he was able to afford all of your expenses if he didn't have an extra income? You're a spoiled girl!" Jeri was shamefully silent after that. "He knows you like shiny things sweetie. And he knows you were an expensive girl when he married you. So the man has a latent for writing fluffy novels that do well in a magazine like Jugs. So be it. Leave him be. So his one big secret is out. So what! Is it worth going to matrimonial war for?" Jewels asked her sister.

"But…but he was supposed to come crawling back on all fours. He was supposed to go to the bank and empty his savings…to jingle his moneypouch at me to woo me back into his favor, like he always does," Jeri said, feeling very scolded."Look at it this way sweetie. He's going to Undercity. Who handles the transactions concerning his job? Snowy," she said with a natural bright smile. "And look on the bright side, when he comes back he has earned some shiny coins you get to spent..._and_ you get to yell at him," she giggled at that. Jeri's mouth opened for a moment, then the twinkle returned into her eyes. Snowy was their third sister, and Jatfast and Snowy weren't exactly on good terms last time they met. How did Jewels always manage to make it look brighter then it felt? The idea of spending some shiny coins sounded more appealing and worked like magic on Jeri. Money had been a blessing many times over, if not to pimp their sex life by enjoying the mere sound of a jingling moneypouch to turn her on.

"I suppose your right," she still played a little unwilling towards Jewels. "He will be more than happy to return home to you after he met with Snowy. Here he will gladly fight all the wars you want with him and make you win. Jingling a zillion money pouches to woo you. Cut him some slack. He's not a bad man, he's a bit stupid sometimes, but he means well, " Jewels spoke in his favor. Jeri was glad for that. At least Jewels shared her favor for Jatfast.

"How do you know so much?" she eventually asked her sister. "Easy, I listen to mother!" Jewels said with a certain smile. Jeri blushed, she never listened to mother. But she was willing to listen to Jewels.

"What about the rest? What do I do with Greymur? With Hurias? How do I deal with that stupid bitch that messed up so many things?" she looked at Jewels. Jeri was pulled into another tight hug by her sister. Jewels let her go and settle herself a little better on the couch. Step two of the Jeri-warzone-safety-protocol was to give advice, even if it meant motherly advice.

"Maybe you should start with the blood elf. Apologizing for breaking her nose might smooth things between you," she pointed out. "She had it coming," Jeri muttered. " Did she? Have you asked her?"she asked Jeri, who had another shameful no to answer. "I'm sure the girl has a reason to be here. Besides, nobody likes to be placed under protective care because you're walking around." Jewels said as she seemed amused by that idea. Jeri knew what she meant. Though she could not help but feel a little guilty. "I think Greymur may actually will like that, if you take the first step for a change. As for the elf, get to know her little better before you judge her so harshly," Jeri looked at her orange painted nails. Jewels managed to turn everything around.

Where Jeri pointed fingers and blamed everything on others, Jewels made her look at it from another point of view, confronting her with her with the side she didn't want to hear. And where Jeri cried out as loud as she could that everybody abandoned her, nobody loved her and everybody was against her, Jewels favored the possibilities that others could not always help it and that they would not come back to her if they really didn't like her. Another true point she tried to make Jeri see. Ofcourse it was so much easier to yell that you didn't do it. But Jewels knew better than her other sisters did. That made her the Jeri-expert.

"So…," she finally started. "You think I should get to know that shiny shit a little better?" The way she asked it made her look silly. Jewels smiled in a bright victorious way when Jeri said that. "Maybe you can start by not calling her bitch or shiny shit," Jewels suggested.

"Can I punch her if I still don't like her?" Jeri asked in a muffled voice. "No, you can't. You'll deprive me of my date with Greymur if you keep punching people like that!" Jewels told her in a motherly way. Jeri stared at Jewels. "You're really looking forward to that aren't you?" she said in amazement. It was her bright idea to offer Jewels a date with either Hurias or Greymur. Mainly as a way of paying Jewels back for that generous voucher she wrote for her sister. And Jeri spent that on Hazer, because she was so desperate to know what was happening with Jatfast. She thought Jewels would pick Hurias, more because of his looks. The young elf male was handsome, even Jewels had to admit that. But Jeri never actually thought Jewels would pick Greymur over Hurias simply because she liked him.

"What can I say, I'm a sucker for muscles," Jewels said with that gleam in her eyes. Jeri tried to picture the grey hunter next to her sister, not wanting to know what her sister had in mind with him. Even though Greymur wasn't that tall for an orc. He was still a lot taller than Jewels."He's huge in comparison to you, you do know that?" Jeri literary spilled her thoughts as she spoke. "Nothing I can't handle," Jewels smiled in a subtle way. Jeri was about to reply to that when she lay a finger on Jeri's painted lips.

"Now you go and make amends, give it a little help in your own favor, show them the real Jeri. Not the one that looks like the badly attuned bomb you really are," Jewels said, stopping her sister from sharing all of her bizarre idea's out loud.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Greymur and Riselle walked into the direction of Zanak's house. Riselle held a broken alarm-o-bot in her hands. "At least it's not annoying anymore," he said, looking at her. "Not after you gave it a final kick," he smirked wild at that. "It never worked. Even Zanak will admit that. Besides, the thing got damaged in the process," he said, hoping she would go along with that instead of blaming him for helping the alarm-o-bot out of its misery. She gave him a disapproving look for it.<p>

He didn't try to make fun out of the subject anymore. Greymur's mood was shifting when they reached the workshop. At least it was better than before.

When they reached the door, the whole building still looked like it was about to collapse. He never really gave it much thought, but nothing changed after the last explosion Greymur realized. Unlike the explosions before that, they always cleaned up the workshop fast. This time it seemed to be a work in progress when he looked at it. He knocked the door firmly.

"Miss Riselle…and Greymur," the first was said with a pleasant surprise when said goblin owner of workshop opened the door. When he saw Greymur he hailed him with a rather disappointed tone, but he didn't deny him to enter. "What brings you to visit my humble workshop?" Zanak shook Riselles hand far longer than he had to before letting them both in through the door that barely could be called a door. "You need a new door Zanak," Greymur observed when he closed the half blackened wooden door behind him."Tell me about it," Zanak looked a little miserable when he sighed about it. "Never mind the mess, do come in, even you Greymur. Would you like a tour miss Riselle? It's not much, but perhaps you like to see where I do most of my inventions?" he asked, talking cheerfully at Riselle.

A mess was an understatement. The entire hallway to the workshop was damaged. The walls came down, plaster was lying all over the floor and the smell of rotten eggs irritated their nostrils. It wasn't very pleasant. Even Greymur tried to avoid breathing in. "Don't mind the smell. You'll get used to it once you walk around a little longer. It's the piping of the indoor outhouse I made a while ago. I saw it somewhere and had to try and make my own version. But with the last explosion it kind of wrecked the place," he said, apologetic."An indoor outhouse…how convenient," Riselle said in a strange way, unsure if it was convenient or not. Greymur grinned for a moment. "Maybe you shouldn't cook and engineer at the same time," he suggested ironically. He got a painful look from Zanak.

"What can I do for you two? I don't get visitors very often," he tried to avoid the conversation with Greymur Riselle noticed. The hunter wasn't bothered. "We're not here for social talk Zanak," he bellowed instead. "Asalt said we needed to have the transmitter checked," the grey orc said. Zanak hung his head when he said "oh" and looked at his feet. Riselle looked sideways at Greymur. She shook her head, he gave her a lame smirk when she made a gesture to be polite.

"Well, broken things is my department. I live in one and I fix them. Ofcourse I will have a look at it. What exactly was the problem with it?" Zanak inquired hastily, turning his attention to Riselle again. "It didn't explode did it?" he asked, sounding unsure."No, no! Otherwise I would not be here," she said smiling at him. He gave her a quick smile back before his face turned somber again. He didn't seem his usual self they both noticed. "It actually saved my life," she told him instead. Zanak stopped in his tracks suddenly, turning around to face her, his expression curious.

"It…it did?" he asked in surprise. "Yes, in a certain way it did," she said, smiling as she nodded, hoping it would cheer him up. Greymur muttered something when she poked him softly. "Your bloody transmitter got damaged in the process," the hunter repeated in that same muttering tone, this time loud enough to be heard. Zanak seemed to beam after that. "So…so it worked?" he looked like he wanted to cheer loudly, but did not dare to.

"It worked, though perhaps not like you originally intended," she said, deciding it was best to hand him over his rather damaged alarm-o-bot. Feeling this was the right moment if she had to bring in the bad news at the same time. His cheerful face turned into a sad face again when he saw the small robot. "Oh…my little alarm-o-bot…whatever happened to you?" he caressed it with great care. For a moment they both though he was going to cry when he held the alarm-o-bot close to him.

"Did he die a heroic death?" Zanak asked, rubbing his nose as he tried to look them both in the eyes. They both saw the shine. Greymur gave Riselle a strange look when she didn't answer him straight away. "He…he did," Riselle lied. Greymur gave her a half grin after that. Ofcourse they would not tell Zanak it was Greymur who eventually kicked the alarm-o-bot in his anger against the wall of his house and now had to repair the hole in the plaster. He was so angered with everything after she was taken by Asathar he took it out on the alarm-o-bot that annoyed him more than ever when Hurias brought it back.

"Thank you for bringing him back. So he did what he had to do…save a life! That was one of his main purposes," he said in a voice that trailed off for a moment, swallowing the tears that didn't come."But I will fix him again! He will be good as new," they heard him promise the alarm-o-bot solemnly. He softly lay the small robot on a table in the hallway.

"Right, let take a look at that damaged transmitter," Zanak said, beckoning them to follow. Opening the door to what appeared to be his workshop. Or more what was left of it."Mind your step. There could be glass on the ground. I would advise you not to touch the walls, since you will be dirty after that. I didn't analyze anything contagious to be honest. Still I didn't have time to clean up yet," he said again when they walked in after him. The workshop seemed even more trashed than the hallway had done. Crumbled walls, knocked over things. More plaster on the ground, broken bricks, wallpaper, broken tubes, glass that was wiped in a small pile to the side of one wall. More broken tools, gadgets, damaged tables, everything blackened and covered with the smell of explosive powder. They both noticed a half repainted wall that looked like it was done by a gnome that could not jump high enough. Whips of white mixed with the blackened ashes made it look a dark grey. Not much of an improvement. There was more out of place then in place really. Most of all the tent that caught both their eyes. It was set up in a clumsy way in the middle of the workshop. Ropes to keep it up tied to racks and hooks in the wall. It didn't look straight when he gave it another look.

"You… decided to go camping?" Greymur joked, pointing at the tent, trying to keep it polite this time. Zanak shook his head in dismay."Not exactly, the living area of my house was blown away. It was either here or sleep under the stars," he said in a soft voice. Greymur eyed him. Figuring it was no wonder the small goblin looked somber. "I never knew the last explosion had such an impact," Greymur said as he took it all in. Zanak had surprised them with more explosions, but never one this great. The goblin engineer nodded uncomfortable. "It's only a minor setback. Once I rebuild this place again it will be good as new," he tried to sound cheerful, but his expression didn't match his cheerful tone.

"Please sit here," he offered Riselle a small clean wooden stool next to a small whole table covered with a red and blue striped cloth. It looked out of place in a workshop like this. She touched the fabric, simple linen cloth."These were originally meant for my restaurant," he said in a wry way when he noticed her curious look. "Restaurant?" she saw him nod.

"After Rinak moved his shop out of here I divided the place in two, one part where I kept my workshop and the other to finally create a restaurant in. That way I could easily make reality of the dream I always had. To use my engineering skills and combine it with cooking. But the last explosion kind of blew up the whole place," he said, looking doubtful for a moment.

"Maybe you need a new dream," Greymur grinned. Zanak hung his shoulders. Usually he would reply with a witty or weird answer, but not today. Zanak seemed to be down. Instead he shrugged his small shoulders at Greymur and looked at him for a moment. "I know what they say about me, but I know there's a market for a dream like mine!" he said, sounding defensive for a second. His face fell back into that gloomy expression again when he hung his head once more. The hunter wasn't sure what to say."Maybe, but perhaps not in a town like Ratchet," the hunter said, trying to keep it neutral. The goblin sighed deeply.

"I don't know," he said, as he kneeled down next to a very large toolkit near the table. "Maybe everybody is right. Maybe I should quit. I know my brother would love to see that," he picked up a spike he tossed to the side. Riselle could not help but feel sorry for the small goblin with his strange goggles. "May I ask what happened here?" she said, Zanak stopped rummaged through the toolkit without looking at her. He was quiet for a moment before continuing his search for what he was looking for.

"One of the liquid potions I used for my flamethrower accidentally sparked into the wooden construction of my latest invention. When I tried to extinguish the fire I accidentally knocked over the barrel I keep my explosive powder in. It was very unfortunate really, because the barrel was nearly empty. I forgot to move it back. It wasn't much, but enough to light everything up," he said with a painful look when he held up a pair different broken tools to see what was still of use. "I ran as fast as I could when I realized the situation was bad," he sighed deeply again.

"It's lucky you made it out alive," Greymur realized. Zanak nodded. "I guess I was lucky there," he said. "Very lucky if I have to believe this," Riselle said, really feeling sorry for him. "You literally knocked me out of my bed that morning with your explosion," Greymur said. Zanak looked at him. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know," he said, feeling more miserable. "Don't be sorry, it happened. And it was either that or Jeri would have kicked me out of bed anyway," Greymur grinned at him. Zanak didn't laugh at the reply. Instead he walked over to a rack with the strangest gadgets and tools. To the side of the rack was a scrapheap with a lot of damaged goods. Then there was another pile next to that with heavily blackened things that seemed melted together. Half of the wall seemed abandoned in a half rebuilded state. The plaster, the clay and the stones were still piled up to finish it.

"Maybe you could have the builders install a larger window on that side?" Greymur suggested, trying to sound helpful when he looked at the half finished wall. Zanak looked up at him. "The builders aren't willing to help me anymore. Rinak made sure of that after the last explosion," he said, sounding angry and frustrated. "My brother has no heart for any of my wishes or my passion, all he wants is to annoy me into sharing that lame shop he has in general goods. I don't like general goods! I like what I do!"he said as his face flushed with more anger.

"He basically said I was wasting my time and that he would make sure nobody would support me anymore after that last explosion," he complained. Riselle pitied him when she saw his devastated expression.

"I'm not really surprised," Greymur had to admit carefully. Zanak snorted."**No, ofcourse you aren't surprised! At least it is funny to know you're one of the few honest persons that told me straight to my face what you thought of my inventions**," Zanak was annoyed. The hunter replied with a shrug to that statement. Zanak seemed uneasy after his explosion at Greymur. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to…complain about my brother," he apologized mostly to Riselle. The goblin grabbed a couple of tools from between the gadgets and stuck them in his belt.

"Let's see what the damage to that transmitter is," he said instead, trying to concentrate on the origin of their visit. He adjusted his goggles before he started his thorough examination by taking her wrist with the transmitter band in his hands. "Oh dear," she heard him say after a while, the verdict didn't sound very good to Riselle. The small goblin sighed as he examined the transmitter around her wrist again and again. With every sigh he sounded more tired. "I'll need to scan this," he mumbled. With a click he attached an extra glass in the shape of his goggle. A blue one on the left, a purple one on the right of the damaged glasses of the pair of goggles he was already wearing. It made his eyes look uneven, as his left eye look extremely large and his right eye very small. Riselle had trouble keeping a straight face when he looked at her.

"I forgot to tell you that I was glad the system worked…well, sort of," he said, taking her wrist in his green hand again as he held it in a firm grip. The blue glass on the left side suddenly made a strange buzzing sound when he pushed a button on the side, making a blue light scan over the transmitter. "What is that?" she asked. Zanak let go of her arm and smiled when he looked up at her. "I scanned the transmitter, so I can see any underlying problems," he said with a smile, happy to explain some of his work. She tried to understand what he just did, but only stared blank at him, mostly staring at his goggles.

"Oh, sorry. These?" he said, pointing at his strange goggles:" These are my plusminus goggles, they work kind of like a magnifying glass on one side I suppose," he said , tapping the left glass. "I added the plus and the minus and the scan as an experiment to the goggles," he sounded more at ease when he talked about his inventions. "You have invented that yourself?" she asked him. He smiled. "Well, actually I made an adjustment to an already existing type, that is all. But it helps me a great deal and saves me work," he nodded. Riselle could not help but be slightly impressed. Goblins were so keen on the strange technical gadgets. Where she came from everything was done with magic.

"It's in the blood of a tinkerer," he said, sounding a little proud of himself. "Do they have many talented engineers in Silvermoon?" he asked in return. She shook her head. "Most things are made and done with magic where I come from. I doubt we have many tinkerers to be honest. I don't think it's a trait obtained by many blood elves," she admitted.

"I would love to visit Silvermoon and see for myself one day I hear it's a fascinating city," he said. She only smiled at him for that.

"What can you do about the transmitter?" Greymur cut in, before Zanak could start talking again. "Well, I can replace it for now. But the alarm-o-bot is too damaged. I fear I have no replacing guardian pet for now. I will need more than a few days to fix him up again, if not more," the goblin said. "I tripped several times over that toy of yours! " the hunter said. "I told you it was delicate," Zanak stated. Greymur looked at him with a sneering look.

"What exactly was the other purpose of the alarm-o-bot again?" Riselle could not remember the other things he told her when they first met him. It all went so fast that she could not seem to recall any of it. It redirecting the conversation to a more suitable level. It left Greymur to grumble, and Zanak to ignore that and tell her more. Riselle was slightly amused by the two of them. Mostly about Greymur's annoyance at times, as he was the one that insisted on coming in the first place. Though he behaved. If she brought up the name Zanak she noticed he always became agitated with the person. Today he seemed somewhat more understanding.

"The alarm-o-bot was meant for many things. It also helped to enlarge the range of the transmitter, originally. But perhaps I should have taken a mechanical squirrel instead of the alarm-o-bot for that job. It should not really matter for the range of the transmitter if you walk around town though," the goblin said. "Perhaps I can attach a red flash light in the eyes of a mechanical squirrel instead of on top of the head! You know, a silent alert, how does that sound?" he asked Riselle. She had no idea if that was better or not.

"Maybe you should focus on getting your workshop up and running again before you start inventing anything else that might explode," Greymur mentioned. Zanak sighed again when he was reminded. "Perhaps you're right," Zanak agreed with Greymur in a sad way. He finally found another of his strange looking tools from the toolkit when he looked again. This time with the scissors of a crab to snap the iron band from her wrist. She stared at the two broken transmitter pieces he held between his fingers. For a brief moment she was free.

Freedom was short when he asked her if she wanted a golden or a silvery band for the transmitter this time. "Silver," she said softly. He took out another of the silvery looking bracelets he did the first time and reattached one around her wrist.

"This should work," he said, clicking the two ends together. Riselle looked at it. "Are you done?" Greymur asked. Zanak nodded. "Would you like a tour of the workshop now?" he asked Riselle, before Greymur could say no. He stared at both of them, almost pleading."I…could I come back another time perhaps?" she asked politely, remembering what Greymur asked of her earlier. "You do not have a spare moment now?" she hated to disappoint him and tell him she didn't.

"She can't," Greymur came to her rescue. "I already made plans for tonight. Because I promised to make herb spiced hare," Greymur said with a half grin to solve the awkward moment. The herb spiced meat made Zanak look up with interest. "I used to make herb spiced meat on a stick. That was such a delicious treat. And then there was the herb spiced soup…did you ever taste a bowl of my crab soup?" He looked ascent-minded when he said that. In his mind he poured himself an imaginary bowl of something as he mused about the idea of herb spiced meat, rubbing his rumbling stomach.

Both Greymur and Riselle gave him a curious look when he drank the imaginary bowl of whatever it was he poured in there. "Zanak? Are you alright?"he asked. It brought the goblin back into reality again. Greymur scratches his head as he looked at the small goblin engineer. He could not recall seeing Zanak this bad.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't been able to cook properly for a while. Your herb spiced hare meat just sounds delicious," Zanak said in sad tone. "If you care for nouvelle cuisine I would love to cook for you sometime miss Riselle. If you enjoy herbs, I might have some dishes you might enjoy as well," he said with a sudden smile. Greymur raised his brow to Zanak. "Don't you dare serve her lobster cooked with dynamite!" Greymur said in a sarcastic tone. Zanak shook his head. "That wasn't a great hit," he admitted honestly. Riselle looked worried at the goblin. Greymur could see the small frown between her delicate long eyebrows.

"Are you able to cook at all?" she finally asked him. Zanak nodded. "I set up a campfire in the garden," he said, looking a bit pathetic after admitting that too. Greymur opened his mouth, but shut up when Riselle cast him a glare. He rubbed his chin when he gave in."Proper cooking takes much longer on a campfire," Zanak continued. They could only imagine. Just when Greymur thought he could take Riselle and leave, Zanak stopped them again.

"But Greymur, no offense, you surprise me. I never knew you could cook?" Zanak said in a puzzled way. The hunter grinned. Though he was slightly worried this would talk would take longer then he wanted."Do orcs not usually eat their meat raw? Or if they have no choice rather medium or rare?" He thought about it. "I blame the variety of company that refuses to eat raw meat. That made me start cooking properly," he laughed. "I see," Zanak said. When no more questions came he took his chance.

"Right, we are off then," the hunter said, hoping this was it. He was already walking towards the door.

"Herb spiced hare meat. Why didn't I think of that…simple yet so tasty," they heard Zanak wonder. The grey hunter sighed. "Perhaps you will lend me that recipe one day?"Zanak asked, sounding more cheerful then before and far more interested then he would want them to think he was. He eyed Greymur bravely. The hunter muttered something under his breath, then rolled his eyes. "Sure, another day," he said quickly.

"We're going, otherwise Rena will have eaten that herb spiced hare meat herself if she finds it," Greymur excused them. "Rena caught him the meat this morning," Riselle said. Zanak's expression grew soft when Rena was mentioned. "She does that doesn't she? Bless her, she's such a sweetheart that wolf companion of yours," Zanak said, sounding sad again. His eyes gleamed for a moment.

"Yeah, a real snack diva," Greymur said, knowing his wolf all too well. "You make sure you get some help with fixing that workshop of yours," the hunter said in a awkward way. Zanak nodded. Both Riselle and Greymur didn't know what to do with him. The orc hunter lingered at the door, suddenly turning around. "You know what," he said. "If Rena hasn't eaten everything herself, I'm sure there is enough for three persons," Riselle looked at Greymur in surprise when he said that. The gesture coming out of the blue. Zanak looked up in similar amazement.

"You…you are inviting me to dinner?" the goblin engineer stuttered. Greymur rubbed his thick neck. Riselle smiled at him.

"I thought you didn't like me?" the goblin said in soft tone. Now it was Greymur's turn to sigh. He wanted to say he was right and that he didn't particularly like the goblin, instead he said:"Call it a neighborly gesture. We can't have you starve because your brother is boycotting this dump of yours!" the hunter said. "Since we all know how well you cook," he added cynically. Zanak smiled shyly."Come in an hour," he finally said, opening the door. Zanak promised to be there.

When they left Riselle was still smiling at him. "What?" the orc hunter said uncomfortable. "That was a nice gesture," she mentioned. "Yeah, well," he muttered for a moment without finishing what he wanted to say. "I don't really hate him. I just dislike his attitude most of the time, it annoys me," the orc grumbled to himself. Riselle chuckled."Still a friendly gesture," she said. He smirked at her.

"Perhaps you can compare it a little bit with a clan. You have to look out for the people around you don't you? Everybody pulls their own weight. Works the same in a town like this I guess. And hospitality is one of the greatest things you can offer to another, even if you don't consider them your friends," he sounded wry suddenly when he said the last thing. Riselle wisely didn't ask him about it. Which he was thankful for when they reached his house in silence.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: To argue and to make amends **

The sound of laughter and the smell of food reached her nose when she stood outside the door, hesitating to either knock it like a proper visitor or simply lock pick it like she used to.

In any case, Jeri wasn't sure how welcome she was right now.

She recognized Greymur's heartily laughter, which meant a good mood. This was good to know. She loved bickering with her grey orc friend, but not when he was against her. Their unlikely friendship a question for those who met them. But she valued him in a strange way, if not for the grumpy moods he could have that she could change around, then it was for the mysteries he kept to himself that intrigued her and probably explained the true reason why he left Twilight Highlands to begin with.

But everybody was entitled to secrets, Jewels said. For some reason the idea of having to miss both Greymur and Hurias didn't appeal very much to her. Jewels was right, like she usually was, this was too stupid to lose a friendship over.

As for making a friendly gesture towards the elf she could not look more distasteful with that task then any unhappy tinkerer was with a broken tool. She had trouble finding the right suggestion. Bringing flowers was more a men's job. And she didn't exactly see herself sitting down doing a girl to girl talk with that blood elf. She shivers at the mere thought.

For as long as she didn't know what business the blood elf had with Greymur, she was still an unwelcome guest in Jeri's eyes. To Jeri she was the shiny-shit that marched into Ratchet, but apparently forgot to march out again.

By now Greymur was probably fed up with the blood elf staying at his house as if it was normal. She secretly hoped he would be glad to see her and be rid of the elf, because he was obviously stuck with having to babysit her for reasons he wasn't sharing with her.

She didn't exactly give making a truce much thought. Thinking of the blood elf woman mostly made her angry. The woman was insufferable to her, coming in between friends like that. Yet Jewels had a point again. Still it wasn't like Jeri to apologize for anything. She usually didn't have to, everybody knew that! She would normally get away with a pouting pair of painted lips, looking sulking while muttering something that sounded like 'sorry' to the others. That was her apology. She wasn't good at ranting about how sorry she was to others, because she usually wasn't. And they accepted that from her.

This time she probably had to. This time Greymur did not come to seek her out. Nor did Hurias show up to listen to her when she declared war to Jatfast. They were all occupied. And if she wanted to know what was going on, she would have to step into it herself. Or she would be left out like Jewels said before she left. They were all things Jeri didn't like to hear, but knew were true.

So there she stood, with one hand reaching for the doorknob, ready to knock the door properly, when suddenly a wet nose reached for the hand hanging to her side, sniffing it. Jeri froze, startled at first when she looked to the side, finding Rena licking her hand.

"You silly wolf! You nearly made me piss my pants!" she said, feeling very relieved."I don't have a treat you big beggar," Jeri told her firmly. Rena whined softly, looking a bit sad as if to say she was disappointed but ready to make it up if she would give her a snack. "Aaw..don't you give me that look as well…," she muttered, feeling there would be more than one disapproving look in a moment. "You probably ate yourself four rabbits if you can help it, silly snackdiva," she said, patting the large wolf on her head. Rena barked, jumping up.

With the sound of her bark there was sudden noise at the door. Jeri realized too late she wasn't sure she was ready when it was opened and she stood eye to eye with the one person she blamed for everything. The awkward silence between the two females seemed to take forever.

"Well?" she said, breaking the silence. "I see you made yourself at home," she snapped at the elf that stood there looking uncomfortable. "Are you going to let me pass or am I denied entrance to my friend's house?"Jeri's bitchy comment made Riselle step aside in silence. She glared at the woman as she passed her, not sure that started well. Rena ran in as Jeri followed as Riselle closed the door.

There in the small kitchen of Greymur's house the table was set. One chair occupied by Greymur, who did not give as much as a blink when she entered. The other chairs surprisingly taken by Asalt and…Zanak?

"What is _he _doing here?" she blurted out, pointing a brightly green painted nail at him. Zanak smirked uncertain. Asalt she could understand, but Zanak?

"The question might be, what are you doing here Jeri?" Greymur finally said. She couldn't figure out if he was happy to see her or not. When she saw Riselle walk to the table taking **her** chair… again!

She felt the anger at the back of her throat. Ready to yell some nasty things about the blood elf. She wanted so badly to give her a piece of her mind.

But this was not the moment to be stupid, Jewels had told her. This was the moment to make a friendly gesture. So she swallowed that anger she wanted to venture on Riselle so badly and took a deep breath. Instead she started with: "I..ehm…I," looking around the table with the odd company. She fiddled with her large hands, making the tips of her fingers tap together as she tried to figure out a way to make this look like anything normal. They all looked at her. All she could do was look down, pout her lips while muttering : "Iamsorry," to Greymur. She said it so fast it sounded like a blur of words not making sense.

Then she turned to Riselle in the same way, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look her straight in the face, biting her lip while feeling stupid for standing there. "Iamsorryforbreakigyournose," she finally blurted out in a hardly hearable muffled way as she clenched her jaws together. Riselle looked suspiciously at her. Greymur frowned, then smirked. He cocked his head to the side to look at Jeri. "I don't think she quite understood what you just said," he gave her a half smirk when she opened her eyes again and gave him one of her well known 'I-will-do-something- horrible- to-you ' look.

"Alright!" she cried out, heaving her arms up in the air;"I'm sorry I broke your bloody nose, there, happy now?" she spat at Greymur. The orc smirked at her now. Riselle gave her a small smile. The orc smirked. Jeri stood waiting for an answer as they all looked at her like a judge would do in a trial. "Won't you sit down?" Riselle offered her the chair she sat on. Jeri opened her brightly painted lips; nothing came out of there that would made sense when she was offered 'her' chair back so generously by Riselle. Jeri stared at her, realizing that to the blood elf this was only a chair. Nothing that tagged it taken, as Jeri claimed stuff in other people's houses as her own.

She silently walked to the table, watching Riselle leave to get herself another stool. Sitting at her usual spot was strange for a moment.

"I would almost think our shiny-shit is a well trained member of that specific group of persons that hold knowledge of the Jeri protocols," he grinned at her, pouring her a mug of something that smelled strong. Jeri felt….stupid. Greymur patted her on the shoulder. "Stubborn, as always," the hunter said in a smug way, meaning well.

"Stubborn indeed, if you're pointing at yourself!" Jeri said with a satisfying grin, feeling she was back at her old spot again. "Though I will admit I do not know what came over me," she added. Greymur made gesture not to mention it anymore. "I agreed with Jatfast to look out for you. Of course we would have come for you eventually, but sometimes I need my distance before I make a move," he admitted. Jeri looked at her painted nails, feeling alright with that thought. That smirk he gave her, that wicked grin, that meant so much to her.

When Riselle came back in with another stool Jeri looked around the table. "Well come on! Make some room for the shiny…ehm…elf lady! We don't want her to think we don't know any hospitality around here, do we?" Jeri smiled brightly again as she moved the chair to the side to create some space.

* * *

><p>Forgotten was her anger over Jatfast back home. Though he wasn't aware of that himself yet. He was still thinking of ways to make a reasonable argument why he kept his writing a secret to her. Even though his mind was taken with the Jatfast-Jeri war his wife started, he had good hopes of finding something in Undercity to give her as a peace offering.<p>

"Jeri likes shinnies doesn't she?" it sounded weird coming from Hurias. The blood elf had been silent most of the trip. He seemed a bit out of spirits ever since they walked through that portal Suarez conjured for them. The moment he set foot in the gloomy area of Brill and seeing forsaken walk by, he became pale. "You still look pale elf, never been to Undercity before?" Suarez asked when he looked at Hurias from the side.

"Pink skins are always pale, unnatural color," Jatfast remarked. Now he was with Suarez and caught up with the talk of good old times, he became more the usual Jatfast Hurias knew him for. Jatfast could make you feel needed, but also use you to hide behind so they would not make fun of him. Hurias gave him a raised eyebrow for that comment. "I never really bothered," he said instead, hoping to avoid explaining why he wasn't keen on forsaken.

"Well, you'll get plenty opportunities here," Jatfast said in a cheerful tone.

Suarez rubbed his badly shaved chin. "This person you mentioned," he said, as if thinking about it hard and long. "Is he meeting us here?" the mage wanted to know. When he made the portal to Undercity, Jatfast made him redirect it towards Brill instead of Undercity. Why he specifically did that he wouldn't tell, but he had a reason. So Suarez changed the portal towards Brill instead, creating the magical circle in the air that eventually would lead to step into the dark and gloomy area of Brill.

Brill was not far from Undercity. Apparently far enough for Jatfast liking.

"Oh he'll come, don't you worry about that. He's pretty that one," Jatfast said in a snickering way when Hurias looked curious. "Pretty dead and pretty ugly," he laughed in a jolly way. Suarez shared that laughter while both males seemed to find it extremely funny; he didn't share the humor of it. "And when will we meet with the lovely Snowy?" Suarez didn't get a very favorable look from Jatfast for bringing that up again. "Snowy is Jeri's sister," Hurias knew, to at least have something to add to the conversation.

"Yeah yeah, Jeri Shmerri," Jatfast said with an ugly face when hearing his wife's name.

"If you want to be back in her favor buy her some jewelry, or a nice looking dagger," Hurias suggested. "Trouble in marriage land Jatfast?" A knowledge Jatfast hadn't shared with Suarez yet. "Yeah yeah, whatever," the goblin rogue said annoyed.

"Oh, nasty mood, she must have done something nasty to you for being this way," Suarez laughed. "They just had a fight because he didn't share his second job with her," Hurias said in good confidence, thinking Suarez was in on everything. Jatfast claimed him to be his best buddy after all. "**Thank you for sharing my matrimonial problems with the whole bloody world, Hurias-Adinna! Now the whole bloody town knows**!"His voice carried far over the large cemetery Brill had. It left Hurias with a puzzled look. They were all silent for a moment. Jatfast instantly regretted yelling out loud.

"Not to stir things up, but I don't think anybody will really care about your problems here," Suarez said eventually with a wicked grin on his face as a few forsaken walked by. Nobody bothered to look their way. "Oh somebody will care," Jatfast muttered, hoping no Horde Coffin Hauler was close by.

Because if somebody would hear about it, it would most likely be Snowy. And Snowy wasn't exactly his favorite subject to talk about. Common knowledge. Even Suarez knew that.

Once upon a time Jatfast and Snowy were getting along fine. Mostly because they both worked in one way or another on the same project: a story about Madam Jade in the Jungle. A love story, covered by Jatfast in a fluffy novel and posed in a series of picture made by Snowy and her crew. Snowy never told Jeri about Jatfast and his trips, writing fluffy novels and doing cover stories. But she threatened to tell her sister when she caught him with his pants down in the bushes during one of the picture shoots. Even though he stuck to his claim he was only peeing in the bushes at the time, Snowy claimed it was very suspicious she caught him down there while Madam Jade was posing with her skimpy outfit on the jungle shores next to that same bush she found him in.

Jatfast would not admit to cheating on Jeri, Snowy tried to valid her claim but Jeri would not believe her and picked sides with Jatfast. After that they never spoke properly again. When he started grave digging in Ratchet and taking the corpses to Undercity he ran into his sister in law again. By then she was already married to one of the goblin families that did the Horde Coffin Hauler trips. After she found out they were dealing with Jatfast Snowy made sure every corpse he brought in to Undercity was checked two times over before she would give him money for it.

Their new dispute made them agitated towards each other. When things got out of hand the forsaken Jonas, who worked with Snowy, became the new contact person whenever Jatfast would bring in a load from Ratchet.

Jonas was after all a business man in undead life as well as he had been in real life. He eventually set some rules that left him in charge of checking in what condition the bodies were in. For limbs Jatfast got a solid price, five gold for a good hand, two for a damaged one. Ten gold for a whole leg with hipbone, four if the leg was too rotten to be used for spare parts. He could easily get twenty gold for an undamaged corpse, Jonas didn't make a problem out of that. He would resell some of the corpses for spare parts and would get a fair price for the bodies he got of Jatfast to add to the forsaken pile that went up and down with the constant wars that demanded more forsaken warriors.

Still, Snowy loved humiliating Jatfast if she could. She would make him wait as long as possible whenever he had business to do in Undercity. Snowy was a real treat alright.

"Shall we move to the inn?" Hurias suggested, feeling rather chilly outside in the strange area."No boy! If you leave this cart alone others will steal it and take the money I'm supposed to earn with it!" he said. His eyes had a greedy shine to it. "Corpse stealing? Really?" Suarez chuckled. "I heard of grave robbers, but corpse stealing, no way. Who would want to steal your corpses," the mage laughed out loud. Hurias smiled. It made Jatfast nearly explode. "Do you know how valuable this load is!?" he asked, clearly agitated with his friends attitude. Suarez frowned when Jatfast became serious.

"Clearing out corpses is not just tearing open of any dead person I can find, they are selected!" He claimed, almost sounding proud.

"What of the family, do they allow their relatives to be taken and sold like that?" Hurias asked. Jatfast could kill him right on the spot. "That is the dumbest question you ever asked pretty boy!" he said, making Hurias grit his teeth.

"Of course the family isn't informed. The stones remain, but the bodies are taken! In Ratchet we try to keep the smell as low as possible, so it's only logical that some of the graves are cleared out. It keeps the cemetery to a minimum," Jatfast said with his business voice. Trying to make his job sound correct and important. He smirked, proud of himself for coming up with all the fancy words himself without Jeri this time.

Ratchet was no place to bury people, certainly not with the warm climate of the Barrens. Decaying bodies meant horrible smell and escaping gas coming from the graves if they were made too shallow. That was the disgusting part of his job, but he didn't say that.

"My work is delicate and requires planning and connections. Because I need to arrange a lot of stuff before I can move the chosen bodies from their graves to here. It is called supply and demand. Ratchet wants to get rid of the corpses, Undercity wants to use them for spare parts or wake them as new forsaken. So we are helping each other out!" He recounted.

"What do you do if the family wished to rebury a member that died?" Suarez asked, heating up the conversation a bit to Jatfast's annoyance. "I thought selling dead people wasn't considered illegal?" Hurias looked serious. In Silvermoon that surely would not be tolerated. The dead were dead and you best left the dead alone.

Jatfast looked stupid for a moment. "Uh ... of course not! Well maybe, sometimes ... but actually not… I don't know! "He muttered unclear, the rogue clearly felt uncomfortable. "How much money do you get for selling dead people that aren't legally yours to sell? Why do you get money for it?" Hurias looked gravely at him. Jatfast looked difficult now. What was this, ask your stupid question hour? How was he supposed to know all the details. He remained silent after Hurias asked him the last question.

"Yes Jatfast, it makes me curious. Because I would like to know that as well?" Suarez greasy grin worked on Jatfast his bad side. The mage smirked about the discomfort of the rogue."What are you two, stupid and dumb? Ratchet wants to get rid of dead bodies, Undercity wants to have them. It's a win-win situation, nothing to worry about. And I get compensation money for my time. There! "He said, raising a fist in anger.

"Compensation money? So they paid you what, per corpse?" the mage chuckled, to drive him further into the corner. "It is called CM Suarez; compensation money! What is not to understand about compensation money for doing a job. Remember what we got paid extra for cleaning the field after a battle?"Jatfast called out in anger now. He saw the mage was beaming about the annoyed reactions he got from Jatfast so far made him jump in defense so often.

"Compensation money? I heard compensation money isn't that much. Is it worth the effort to earn such little money but have to do so much work for it?"Hurias asked the question as seriously as possible while Suarez gloated openly about Jatfast seeing the elf work against him here. They both questioned his job. If he said the wrong things he could be in trouble.

"The money that ... uh ...**do you know how expensive it is to bury a dead person and keep the graves neat and tidy?"**He looked agitated. "The maintenance costs more than the whole bloody funeral! I'm not an expert grave digger, I only started out by clearing them. But you almost make it sound like I throw open any grave that crosses my path and randomly pull out a corpse to earn money in Undercity with! "He complained loudly. Hurias chuckled. It did sound like that, because it was.

"So it is a little illegally?" Hurias concluded. "**Does it matter**?" Jatfast shouted angrily. "**Somebody has to do the dirty work boy! And my work is important! And it's my income. So what! If the pumpkins had been had it been legal, but because it seems there are difficult word repeated. All right! Call it semi-legal, but it is work and I get paid for it!** "The goblin was not happy with the situation, certainly not because he felt himself to justify how he earned his money.

"Semi-legal?" Suarez said, laughing hard at the description. Jatfast leaned his elbows on the cart and looked at Suarez in a dangerous way. "And you call offering portals under the slogan 'travel the world, see the most beautiful places of Azeroth" no illegal trade?" he suggested, a lame grin spreading over his ugly face. Now it was Suarez turn to defend his actions.

"Yeah Suarez, explain that to us. Instead - as the rules state- a civilian or non-mage is not allowed to use any other location by portal unless the mage has no other option. Otherwise he should abide by the rules saying that he is only allowed to make portals for a fee that take travelers to an agreed location. Such as any Horde or neutral capital or city!"Jatfast mentioned. Grinning bitterly when Suarez didn't jump into it like he had. The mage paused his sniggering.

"Business is business," he said. "Sure it is," Jatfast said, sounding annoyed when Suarz didn't dive in like he had. "That they sometimes end up somewhere else is purely coincidental. I never turn down the fee coming from a happy customer. But hey, if you aren't happy with my service, you're welcome to go back to your former mage. Since I'm only a hired service to you and your 'goods' to do a transport towards a fixed location, namely Undercity. And if we do get into trouble, considering the legality of your work, Jatfast, then of course I will play it safe and deny that I was aware what the client was going to transport," he bounced the threat back to Jatfast who snorted loudly.

"You really want to play it like that? Then I have a few anecdotes from the illegal circuit that you engaged yourself in," the goblin rogue sneered at the mage. The rogue clenched his fists, showing them to his friend. The mage held up his wand to show he was serious as well. "Say something here pretty boy!" Jatfast tried to make him pick sides.

"Sooo….did you ever visit Silvermoon?" Hurias tried to change the course of the laden conversation. Jatfast gave him a sharp look. "Are they in need of bodies in Silvermoon, boy?" he asked. Hurias shook his head, knowing they weren't. "Then I have no business there," the rogue simply stated.

"Hmmm, that is indeed an interesting though. They might be willing if I can set up a trade line with a client from Ghostlands," the voice that disturbed the argument was dark and monotone. They all looked up at a forsaken in ragged robes that tapped his withered leather hat. "The name is Jonas, at your service," he said, bowing down to them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: Undercity **

"My name is Jonas. Jonas Dredgewood. Undead merchant," the forsaken said, as he formally bowed to them. He was dressed in ragged robes, together with a flappy battered leather hat that was pulled down as low as possible. Jatfast snorted loudly. "Oh, cut the dramatizing crap! They are with me you idiot! The goblin is my old friend Suarez. He's my business partner. The elf is my protégé, well, actually he is Jeri's, but I have him on a leash tagging along for now. Charity, you get my point," Jatfast interfered as the others stared at the forsake in front of them. Two bright glowing yellow eyes looked at each of them from under the strange hat, before staring back at Jatfast.

Hurias didn't exactly look thrilled about being described as a charity case. It felt like a puppy that was more of a bother then a blessing. Whatever happened to the promise of showing him the tricks to the world of goblin trade? He should have known Jatfast was only true to his word when he could get something out of it. Knowing Jatfast well enough the whole promise was a faint breeze in the rogues strangely working brain by now. He easily 'forgot' a promise made to another if it was more convenient. Or he would promise you the world with his fingers crossed behind his back, in any other way even Hurias knew he would not honor his word or his promise. For once the elf wasn't really bothered by that thought. Right now he didn't care right now. At least here he felt more useful than at home, where Greymur didn't have any time for him, where he could not look at Riselle because his heart would beat so fierce he was afraid she might notice and where Jeri was sulking because of Jatfast. Going to Undercity was a good distraction.

"Thoughtful as ever I see, Jatfast," Jonas mentioned after the description of the elf. "Snowy will be ever so pleased to hear you came to do business," the wicked smirk on the forsaken's face when he mentioned Snowy instantly shut Jatfast up. It also settled the relation between the forsaken and the goblin to the others. Jatfast muttered several curses under his breath that made Suarez snicker loudly when he looked at Jatfast.

The last of the party remained awfully silent. Hurias only stared. His bright emerald colored eyes skeptic towards the forsaken that greeting them with such allure.

"Ah yes, the lovely Jeri. Your 'charming' wife. I have to say she does have taste. This is indeed a very nice specimen," the dark voice of the forsaken man sounded amused for a moment when he looked at Hurias, who looked more than pale when the forsaken eyed him like that.

"Back off undead! He's not for sale!" At least that part he did remember when he found himself back again and stepped forward in an agitated way. All that talk about Jeri reminded him too much why he was here. That or Greymur's reminder that something bad would happen if he would accidentally forget to bring Hurias back home in one piece. And if not for Greymur, then surely Jeri would have his head if he would not return pretty boy to her.

"Undead," the forsaken repeated the word. "You step on my cold heart Jatfast," the forsaken man laughed sarcastically. It made Jatfast mutter more under his breath, making Suarez snicker even more. "That's what you are, isn't it? A walking dead yeah?" Jatfast said. He seemed less agitated when he saw the forsaken could laugh about it. "We are forsaken, but there is a difference between the deranged undead walking zombies or a forsaken," Jonas said, not really trying to explain things. "Yeah yeah, just get to business! How long is Snowy intending to make me wait for my money this time?" he sounded like a child being deprived from a candy by his mother the way he lamented. Jonas grinned for a moment when he watched Jatfast. The forsaken's jaw hung a bit to the side when he did that, grinning.

Rotten teeth between rotting flesh. The holes in his skin did not really make him appealing to look at, nor did the different colors of skin that seemed sewed together in a crude way. Not to mention the bones stuck out of some parts of his ragged robes. The forsaken man adjusted his jaw again and draped a scarf around his hideous face, mostly to Hurias relief.

"Ah yes, the everlasting family feud between you and Snowy, how could I forget about that," came the sarcastic reply. Jatfast stamped his foot on the ground. "**Hey**! I earned you a job with because of that feud, didn't I? Nothing wrong with that!" Jatfast muttered, feeling stepped on his toes again.

"You should have seen him during his bomb squad days, he was always a rascal," Suarez could not help but interfere, grinned a fat grin, one that would indicate he would have another trick up his sleeve as it didn't help improve on Jatfast mood. "I'm sure pretty boy over here can share some more embarrassing moments to your taste," the mage punched Hurias in the side in a friendly but rather harsh way.

"Ouch," the elf said, rubbing his side. "It talks," Jonas noticed dryly, as he turned his attention back to the elf again. Hurias froze under the forsakens glare, feeling itchy all over as if he has maggots crawling everywhere. The surroundings, the trip through the portal, the forsaken, it all made his stomach spin around. "Excuse me," the elf called out suddenly, holding a hand in front of his mouth. He looked paler then a sheet of white linen.

"Uneasy stomach I see. The bushes might be a good place to vomit," Jonas chuckling darkly as he helpfully pointed a boney finger to the side of the graveyard where there were some dead bushes. Hurias didn't hear him anymore, all he did was run past them into the direction of the bushes where they could hear him empty his stomach.

"Happens to most of them the first time they visit," Jonas said, sounding like an expert as they all watched poor Hurias disappear between the branches of the dead bush again while spilling another load of stomach content.

When he finally came back he looked a pale grey-white, matching the gloomy area of Brill.

"Perhaps it would be wise to leave him in the tavern for now," Jonas suggested, eyeing the elf again. Nobody disagreed with that, Hurias least of all. Eventually Suarez went with him as innkeeper Rene settled the poor elf on a table with a bowl of bubbling swamp soup that smelled terrible.

"Now that is settled, let's get down to business. Your elf seems to be in capable hands, shall we? I'm always thrilled to see what you bring me this time," Jonas said, motioning Jatfast to follow him. He snapped his two good fingers together for two goblins to appear out of nowhere and push Jatfast's cart towards the tent near the butcher and the cook. No doubt they were family members of the Horde Coffin Hauler boys that did the trips in Tirisfall Glades.

"Sidekicks?" Jatfast asked, sounding ironic. "Helpers, provided very generously by my employee when I deal with you," the forsaken said, covering up his mouth with the scarf again as he laughed. Jatfast gritted his teeth. Bloody Snowy!

"Get moving boys," Jonas snapped with the fingers of his other hand again. Jatfast looked curious at the hand. It actually had flesh on it, unlike Jonas his other hand that was all bone."What's that you got there, new arm? When did you get that?" Jatfast asked, pointing at the fingers. "Oh I had that for some time, but the flesh is starting to come off already. Such a shame," Jonas said, sounding thoughtfully. "You might like what I have with me then, a whole box of spare parts as well!" The rogue said, grinning pleased with himself. "I'll see what you have. Maybe I can use some of those parts myself. But I like the elf better, he is indeed a beautiful specimen. Does he have any special qualities?" he inquired.

"Will you cut the crap!? He's not for sale!" Jatfast said, feeling played. Jonas laughed dark when Jatfast stared at him. "Oh I don't want him for myself, I already have one. It's mere curiosity to see what Jeri picked him for. Though two elves with qualities might be better than one, don't you think?" The rogue gritted cracked his knuckles, he didn't want to misunderstand anything wrong about what Jonas just said.

"What's yours about?" he demanded to know. Jonas shrugged. "Protégé, like yours!" the forsaken laughed louder now."It is a shame your wife took him in, Snowy would love him. She would find good use for him. He could even make a fashionable combination with my protégé," Jatfast gave him a sour look for mentioning Snowy again."He's Jeri's! Nobody touches anything that belongs to Jeri, not even Snowy," he said, feeling satisfied he knew that for sure.

"Since when do you even _have_ an elf?" he asked, wanting to know more. The forsaken hummed for a moment before he burst into hysterical laughter. It seemed his laughter rolled and echoed against the walls of the houses in Brill, taking over the silence that seemed so present in the gloomy surroundings of the village. "Since I met one in Ghostlands," he said, sounding amused. "Now let's get down to business. Show me what you got," he said, turning the subject around as easily as he had brought it up. Something that irritated Jatfast.

* * *

><p>Jatfast paced up and down the rather small tent in sheer irritation when it seemed to take ages for Jonas to give him a verdict on the bodies he brought in. His helpers unloaded the coffins one by one carefully before they opened them.<p>

For Jatfast it was too cramped in here, there were hordes of flies swarming around he kept slapping away and the overwhelming smell of decaying flesh made his allergies play up again. All in all not the best place to wait. Jonas wasn't bothered about it, nor did his helpers seem to be.

Whatever Snowy ordered Jonas to do with his wares, he did it thoroughly, which vexed Jatfast even more. He wondered how Snowy pulled it off, was it a deal she made with the forsaken? Did she bribe him? Did he owe her a favor? Whatever she paid him it was enough to keep him on the job and enjoy it. He never managed to make the forsaken owe him a favor, never. Jonas always paid his debts and returned the favors in full. In all the time he knew the forsaken he never caught a weak spot he could use to his advantage or use against the forsaken. Instead he remained on friendly terms with the rogue. Not being his friend, but showing he wasn't the worst of persons to deal with. Courtesy he called it. Which was a good thing for Jatfast.

Because in Undercity he didn't really have the advantage he had at home. And here he wasn't likely to make solid ground for any schemes or deals anytime soon. Snowy was responsible for that as well. Showing him this was her terrain, not his. But that was something he figured out long ago.

Here he could not call in the favors others owed him. Here he could not easily make a quick deal. He cursed the day Snowy got married to one of those Coffin Hauler boys and brought in the idea to check his wears twice.

"You're welcome to check on your elf if you like, we will be busy for a while," Jonas said with a sneaky sounding grin. Jatfast stiffened when he suggested that. His greedy eyes focused on the corpses that were carefully laid on the ground one by one by Jonas his helpers. "And have some of my wares magically disappear on me when I come back? I don't think so Dredgewood! If you think I will fall for that old rogue trick you're wrong. Besides, I don't trust you one bit!" he snapped.

"Whatever you like, I'm only warning you up front, just in case Snowy decides to walks in," Jonas chuckled. It made Jatfast tap his foot in annoyance as he saw how his corpses were inspected. They carefully looked at every limb, every finger, and every foot. Everything part was examined. The worse of the corpses was tssk-ed by one of the goblin helpers. Jatfats flinched when one of the hands of the dead man came off rather easy after they tried to turn him around.

"Spare parts that one," he said, trying to sound smart as he gave an all knowing grin. The goblin helper looked at him and shook his head, as if telling Jatfast he was better off not saying anything at all. Which annoyed the rogue even more. When they started on the next coffin he stood up straight. This was his best one so far, he could earn a lot of money for this.

"That is a special one, you might want to treat her with care," he said, when they took the nails of the lid out with a crowbar. The wood squeaked when the last nail was taken out and they opened it. The other goblin helper gave him a nasty look, making a gesture for him to shush it. But Jatfast would not give into the silent treatment he was given by those Snowy followers. She always did things like that. Making him wait. Or she would make sure he was ignored by her helpers. Jonas was the only one that talked to him during the check of his wares.

"Boss, come and see this one," one of the helpers said, he grinned wide. Jonas shuffled forwards towards the coffin. "Hmm," Jatfast heard him say.

"It seems you really did bring us a treat," Jonas said, looking from the coffin to Jatfast. The young human woman with the long brown hair lay with her hands folded, like most did when they were buried. She was dressed in a simple linen robe that would have suited her nicely if she were still alive. Jonas notices she wore no shoes. Jatfast came closer and cast a glare into the coffin.

Her face seemed at peace now. How Adinna always managed to make them look so peacefully he never quite understood, but she did. The woman had a pale taint and if he didn't know any better she had a slight pink blush on her cheeks that actually made her look as if she could open her eyes and stand up any moment.

"She is a beauty isn't she," Jatfast said, tapping the side of the coffin and using his business voice to promote his wares.

"She will be a beautiful forsaken after she is woken," Jonas agreed. "Helbrim liked her," Jatfast said with a sly grin. Or at least that was what Adinna told him in private when he came to collect all the bodies and the spare parts that needed transporting to Undercity."Did he now? Well, I can see why. Whoever she was, I'm sure she will be a valuable asset to the forsaken," Jonas nodded as he ordered his helpers to be careful with the woman. To Jatfast's relief she didn't move.

"So, tell me more of this protégé of yours?" he said, trying to distract Jonas. "My elf? Similar to yours I suppose. You know, two hands, two feet, back, front, two eyes, mouth, nose, slender, long pointy ears, green eyes, you would probably recognize them easily enough," he said sarcastically.

"Ha ha, very funny," Jatfast replied. "Besides the fact mine has a talent with blacksmith skills yours seems… a little lost perhaps?" The forsaken made a simple statement of what he had observed earlier by looking at Hurias for a few moments . Jatfast muttered.

"The boy lost his job, but I was going to teach him some goblin business," he said, sounding resentful for remembering. Jonas snickered after that."Was that Jeri's idea or yours?" he asked. "What's it to you? The idea was mine of course! The boy just needs to grow a spine," the rogue said stern. Jonas shook his head. "Jeri won't like you teaching him stuff he is not meant for," Jonas knew for a fact. Jatfast grumbled. Was Jonas daring to tell him he knew Jeri better than he did?

"How would you know?" the rogue snapped. Jonas grinned, displaying the mismatch of his skin for a moment when his scarf fell down again. "He's delicate, your elf. Too…emotional," he said. Jatfast raised an eyebrow. "He would not last one day in your business," the forsaken man said, looking at an arm that was help up by one of the helpers from another coffin.

"Oh shut up, what do you know about my elf anyway? So yours isn't delicate? Aren't they all a bunch of feathered peacocks walking around in clouds of perfumed vain?" Jatfast sneered. The dark chuckle was his answer. "Mine has a little more…life experience," he said, as if that made it different. Jatfast mumbled about insolent forsaken nosing in things they didn't know about.

"He's Jeri's. And whether she likes it or not, the boy will have to start earning some form of living again. He can't eat by remaining pretty boy forever," Jatfast said. "Gazlowe doesn't like no-do-ers in his town," the rogue used for an argument. Jonas didn't answer him. He gave a slight nod to one of his helpers that silently disappeared from the tent. Jatfast only noticed he was replaced by a new one. A goblin with large bat like ears and a nose ring through one of his nostrils.

"So, how's Jeri doing? She didn't accompany you?" Jonas asked, adjusting the scarf around his mouth again. Sometimes she would come along to visit her sister and to score some jewelry or gems she liked. Not that she came to see Jonas. The forsaken and Jeri were skeptical towards each other. But when there was a deal at stake that had their mutual interest one could mistake their understanding for a strange friendship. Jatfast huffed.

"Don't mention Jeri," he said in a harsh bitter way, still not happy she declared war on him. Instead Jonas gave Jatfast an eerie glare as he chuckled in a low tone. "I see who wears the pants around your marriage," he said. "Oh shut up! We both know Jeri! You have the terrible twin sister bossing your around every day. I don't envy you one bit Dredgewood! If any of them is in one of their moods we know the world is about to explode," Jatfast complained, sounding very sorry for himself.

"You would do well to hide any way," the female voice sounded unfriendly when she opened the flap of the tent. Jatfast froze in his spot when the white-haired Snowy entered the tent. She grinned wickedly at him for that. "Hello Jatfast, you still look hot for the man that earned himself the right to be called my sisters worst choice," he stared at her. Snowy was an exact copy of Jeri in a different color hair. That and the fact she was slightly younger didn't make it easier for him to look at the woman he used to get along with and now posed as some enemy. She made anything difficult for him if she could.

"Here to peep some more? I doubt the forsaken make very satisfying targets for that, but Silvermoon is but an Orb of Translocation away for you to stare and gaze at elves if you want to please yourself. At least this time I won't catch you fapping in a bush, so your secrets is safe with me," she said, giving him a displeasing smile with a pair of cold eyes fixed on him like a spider would on its prey.

"You love bringing that up, don't you! Jeri never believed that!" Jatfast sneered at her. She pouting her lips the way Jeri did. Her lips were an unnatural blue that strangely matched her white hair. She was wearing a weird combination of dark boiled leather that was decorated with small ice-blue crystals that sparkled even in the gloomy light around Brill. Not something that turned him on. At least in that way she was different from Jeri. The strange dark blue rings she wore in her ears mismatched the whole thing nicely. He was glad her sense for fashion was different. But it was still the woman in front of him that annoyed him most. She had Jeri attitude, the ability to sound as miserable and misunderstood as possible to make you feel guilty and she could dramatize everything in near perfection to his wife's behavior.

"Yeah. Lucky for you she didn't believe my version. I would make you pay in any miserable way I can think of for making that mistake in the first place! You are not worth my sisters' time if I could help it!" Snowy promised him. Sadly enough she also shared the same temper and the same humor he didn't find funny nor appealing on her. "You became a true bitch," he mumbled to himself.

"And you became a true disappointment when I caught you with your pants down," she countered him. Jatfast shrugged, not impressed. "I will continue to be a bitch until you admit you did what you did," was her reply. The goblin helpers seemed very amused about the boss bitching the rogue around.

"Now children, don't fight!" Jonas his dark voice came in between the bickering goblins. Snowy spat on the ground. "Do I pay you to give me advice on how to handle scum Jonas?" she asked him in her authorizing tone. The forsaken laughed at her. "No, but you do pay me to handle things with care and to avoid worked up situation like this," he reminded her. Snowy pouted her lips for that. "Bah, you are true to your bones," she muttered. Jatfast smirked for a change. "You! I best not catch you in my sight, or I might change my mind and have you bring back your wares to Ratchet," she told Jatfast, holding up her fist to make sure he understood her correctly.

"Now let me see that treat you talked about, I want to be sure she is really dead before I decide to pay him a gold too much for his useless wares," he heard Snowy snap at her helpers. She didn't seem to have eyes for him any longer.

"I think I will check on my elf now," he said, breathing in and out deeply for a moment. Jatfast didn't know how fast he had to get out of that tent before she would change her mind.

* * *

><p>So there he sat. Frustrated and more annoyed than ever as he joined Hurias, and Suarez. The elf seemed to have more color then before. And Suarez, who seemed more than a little amused to hear Snowy came walking in on him to personally check his wares, didn't hide he was having fun over the back of his friend.<p>

"You'd think Jonas could have smuggled me out of that tent when she came walking in," Jatfast complained. Suarez didn't agree with him. "He did warn you up front," the mage said, still snickering loudly from Jatfast bad luck.

"Shut up Suarez, nobody asked you!" Jatfast said in a loud voice as he gulped down a badly tasting beer from a dirty mug. Suarez was right and the rogue knew it. Besides, he didn't have a good argument to support himself in any defense even if he tried. Jonas did warn him, fair enough. He moped, grumbling between sips of beer. Now he had to wait again. At least he was out of Snowy's way for now. There was silence after that. At least on Jatfast s account.

He never really figured it out about Jonas. One moment the man seemed reliable, the other he turned the odds against him. Even though he could get along with the sarcastic forsaken, Jeri only did well with him when he had something she needed. And he knew exactly what to bring her.

Jonas visited Ratchet often enough to cut deals in his own favor. If he had to work with Jeri he would use her payment plan skills or have her make up a contract he needed for something. In return he would always give her something she enjoyed. Business was pleasure for Jeri is she got something good out of it. And pleasure was more fun for him in the bedroom if she was in a good mood. Which wasn't very often lately.

Jonas would appear as silently as he came, using one of those bloody scrolls he always seemed to carry with him. He never got the deal with those scrolls.

They all sat there, shadowed by Jatfasts horrible mood mostly. It didn't stop Suarez from trying to teach Hurias how to play a card game. The elf didn't seem to understand the rules very well, which gave Suarez the advantage and win each time they started a new game. When Hurias was about to give up Suarez explained it down to the smallest point for the elf to understand. After that he had an equal partner in his game. He heard Hurias laugh when he won and Suarez tell him it was his luck they didn't play for money, or he would have been a pour elf again.

It left Jatfast to sulk for himself.

Hours passed, making the badly tasting beers almost nice as they flourished happily in Jatfast system. He drank one after another, throwing another coin on the table for Rene to pay for his new drink. The innkeeper didn't say anything, she silently took the coin and swopped the old mug for a new one. Jatfast had to grab it with two hands to hold it straight, spilling a bit of beer on his leather pants. He snickered as he looked at the stain that formed on hit weathered leather pants. Last time he was this drunk they had to carry him home.

But the world seemed a better place in the fuzzy blurriness that became his drunken vision. It was actually so funny to see forsaken move when he was drunk. They looked like badly played marionettes. They weren't funny enough to stop him from sulking when more entered the inn.

"Did you find a gift for Jeri yet?" Hurias talked through a hollow pipe to him. Or that was the sound he received. Suarez cackled a loud laugh. "Leave him be elf! He seems to be sulking in misery right now. I think he's even too drunk to notice us," the mage shared another round of cards on the table. "Jeri can drink him under the table if she is up for it," Hurias said. The echo of Suarez laugh banged against Jatfast's head like a war drum.

Jeri…Jeri…Jeri… Jeri…Jatfast repeated her name in his head over and over. Why was his wife so difficult sometimes? Was it so wrong to keep his writing a secret to her? She was an expensive girl, she wanted all these things he could not afford with the meager payment he used to receive from the normal daily job he had before he became a corpse clearer. It didn't add up to the expenses she had. But he tried. Anything for Jeri. The alcohol made his emotions go up and down from feeling guilty down to his toes, to being angry she never trusted him enough to provide for her.

She would snap at him for thinking that. He missed her snapping at him….

The way she could cuddle up against him when she was in a good mood. Claimed him if he looked at another woman too long. He only looked, never touched. Nobody matched with him so well as Jeri did. She could make him reconsider that deal he wanted to make if she jingled their bedroom money pouch at him. Dressed in a skimpy see through nightgown as she showed him the gold she stashed in between the silver and copper. If she put gold in the bedroom money pouch she was really turned on. You could wake Jeri up for gold in the middle of the night.

He smirked for a moment. Then his mood dropped to feeling sad and sorry for himself.

He never cheated on her! Well, not really. Looking wasn't cheating. Snowy caught him peeping at Miss Jade as she said. But all he did was pee in the bushes, why could Snowy not understand that after all this time? Jeri took his side? Jeri believed him!

Sure, he wasn't always honest, but he was honest enough to tell his wife about it. Why was bloody Snowy so suspicious.

He watched another group of visitors arrive. One carried a sword that would reflect the bloody moon if he wasn't careful. Show off!

Jatfast licked his lips as they disappeared again. Suddenly missing the mocking game they used to play while drinking amongst friends. Make fun of the shiny-shit. He missed home suddenly. The moments they would sit and drink and have fun at the weird game Jeri invented to kill time. Laugh at the shiny-shit. Come up with strange challenges to call each other's bluff. Greymur was good at that! The rogue nodded to himself. The grey orc was good at that, calling your bluff.

He was also the one that seemed to keep them all with their feet on the ground. Greymur could be harsh, grumpy, annoyed, but also laugh heartily at playing the game they did with the shiny-shits. Silly orc. Not to mention that wolf of his. Jatfast scratched his head thinking about it. Rena wasn't silly, she was everybodies friend. Greymur was a grumpy orc most of the time, he still liked the orc. At least he was honest. Greymur was what he showed to be. Jeri needed that sometimes, a person who told her off on things. The grey hunter never backed away for any of her terrible moods, unlike himself. Jatfast sighed.

But they weren't in the Broken Keel Tavern. There were no shiny-shits here. Only those travelers that stuck around long enough to have a small private chat with each other, or receive a key from Rene to go up to their cobweb decorated room with moldy blankets.

If Jeri was here she would slap him on the back of his head for the fun of hearing him curse. Not hard enough to tumble him over, but painfully enough to make him notice her presence. Jeri's laugh, Jeri's smile, Jeri's bedroom eyes. How he wished he was hiding in stealth in a corner of the Broken Keel right now, waiting for the group to come and settle at their usual table. He would have his greedy fingers all over Jeri if he wanted to tease her. He sighed heavily, feeling extremely sorry for himself when nothing useful came over lamenting his thoughts on how to solve the Jeri-war.

The hour was late, or perhaps early morning when the elf came walking in. He surely stood out in the crowd of forsaken and mismatched the other visitors of trolls and orcs that passes the inn at this hour. Even Suarez noticed that.

That and the fact Jonas walked in together with the elf. Protégé he had called it with that strange grin before he had to adjust his jaw and draped that scarf around his face again. Jonas pointed a bony finger in their direction. Suarez grinned when the forsaken approached alone.

Jatfast was fast asleep on the table as he snored loudly. Rene didn't bother with him. Suarez and Hurias watched out for him. "He's drunk," was the answer when Jonas looked at the sleeping rogue. "Shame, or maybe not. We're not done counting yet, it might take a little longer for me to convince Snowy on certain matters," Jonas said displeased. Hurias instantly stiffened when the forsaken stood too close to him and eyed him with those yellow eerie eyes of his. "I thought I might introduce my protégé to you, young one," he chuckled specifically at Hurias as he tightened the scarf around his face again and beckoned the elf to come over.

The male blood elf that approached was slightly taller than Hurias. His hair a rich dark chestnut color, kept together in a tail he wore over his shoulder. A small goatee decorated his chin. He was wearing a leather apron, a sleeveles shirt and a pair of leather pants and boots that had mail rings on them. His trait was confident the way he came up to their table. The man was by no doubt different from Hurias, and older then he was from the looks of it, yet still a young man. If not for the color of his hair, then for the gaze the dark haired elf looked around with. Eyes that seemed wise with knowledge and experience of things that were probably his past. The way he smiled reminded Hurias of a certain somebody.

"This, is my protégé and partner in some ways, Rotharian. He will be able to show you around Undercity if you like," Jonas his dark voice said. For a moment Hurias stared at the young man that held out his hand to shake his own.

"Rotharian, at your service," he said with a bright smile. "Suarez," the goblin said cheerfully, shaking his hand in a hard way. "H-Hurias," the other elf said, a little overwhelmed by the gesture of the forsaken man to introduce a member of his own race to him in a place like this. "I thought you might like to hear what brought Rotharian here," he said at the blond haired elf. Hurias wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Now formal introductions are over, I will leave you to deal with them on my behalf. Tell Jatfast I will contact him as soon as we're done finding a compromise for his wares," he said to Rotharian. The dark haired elf nodded. Suarez lay down his cards. "Is there a problem?" the mage wished to know. "Nothing worth mentioning. Some Snowy related trouble. Perhaps it is best not to mention her name at all in his presence," Jonas said, tapping Jatfast's head. The rogue didn't even notice.

"If I see the sorry state he is in right now I think he can use a good night of sleep. That does not mean you two cannot tour around Undercity left in the capable hands of Rotharian," he said, his glowing eyes never blinked, probably because he didn't have eyelids anymore. That sounded appealing enough to Suarez. "We'll tell him when he wakes," Hurias said, finding his voice back again.

Jonas disappeared again. It left Suarez with two elves to look at. Not that he was bothered by that. As long as they didn't beg him to write his life story like Arsenial had done, he was fine with anybody. The new elf sat himself on an empty chair and joined their table.

"So, Rotharian is it? Tour guide?"Suarez said, looking at the dark haired elf."More or less," Rotharian said sounding very polite. The mage snickered. "Do you play cards?" he asked instead. "Not often, but I do enjoy a little game if I can," the new elf said, seeming to be very much at ease. Hurias glared at him. He didn't share his thought with them though.

"So tell us, is there a good place to dump Jatfast for the moment and persuade you to tour us around Undercity right now? I can use a little distraction from sitting in this gloomy inn all day. That and the hope for something more tasteful then swamp soup, because I'm getting mighty hungry by now," he laughed. "Of course," Rotharian said and nodded.

"Maybe we can rent a room for Jatfast?"Hurias mentioned. He hated to admit he had little to add to the payment of a room at all. Money was scarce for him lately, as he was more likely to run out of what he had left then add new coins to his bank account now he didn't have a proper job anymore. Eating most of his meals at Greymur didn't add up to the fact he still needed to look into finding a new occupation again. But things had been so strange lately he was happy nobody pushed him to pay the bill for once.

"I think Jatfast can provide for himself," Suarez said in a sneaky way as he started to search through Jatfast his pockets for any money. To Hurias his surprise he dug up Jatfast money pouch and emptied it on the table. "Let's see what Rene will rent us for the sleeping sulker over here so we can have a good time without his moody face!" Suarez said in a merry way. Rotharian raised a delicate eyebrow at the scene in front of him. "Did you just pick pocket him?" he asked. Suarez smirked as he nodded.

"He won't mind. Because he won't know!" The mage slapped himself on his knee for that."Come, let us have a look around Undercity!" Suarez didn't wait for Hurias to answer him when he got up and walked over to Rene. He watched the mage arrange a quick exchange of money for a key. After they made sure Jatfast lay in bed properly they locked his door and were ready to go.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 23: Memories.**

It was finally quiet in his house, for the first time since in ages. The wood and the coal provided a dim light in his kitchen. He stared into nothing in particular for a moment. Thinking about tonight. Several hours passes since Zanak, Jeri and Asalt finally left him to enjoy some quiet time. When Riselle announced she would go upstairs and try to catch some sleep, which was the only odd thing he could come up with really, he had the whole night to himself from the looks of it.

At least it started out more than pleasant expected. Better then he hoped it would, especially when Jeri decided to show her face. Uninvited quests always proved a hindrance to others. And he feared Riselle might not be pleased to see the goblin woman join the party that broke her nose a while ago. On the other hand, Jeri was his friend as well; he would never deny her entry. He just had to find a way for them to get along, or cope together. But he didn't have to take matters into his own hands concerning the two women. After Jeri's strange attempt of apologizing to Riselle the blood elf seemed mild toward the other female. She even offered her the chair at the table.

Greymur watched them closely. The last thing he wanted was a catfight in his house. And Jeri was more of a tiger than a cat when it came to fighting. He had no doubt Riselle could stand up for herself if she had to. He was glad they didn't collide like he feared when Jeri showed up.

Riselle did not seem to have any hatred for Jeri, perhaps a little hesitation to figure out how to approach her, but he could not say she was fixed on Jeri's presence to brood on revenge.

Of course Zanak made them all laugh when he shared his ideas on inventions and food. Any future plans he had really. Even Greymur had a good laugh when the small goblin engineer brought up he was thinking of inventing a life sized robot, fixed with a barbeque, a tent and rain coat in case the weather would go bad. As if anybody would consider having an instant barbeque in the wild blue yonder! Zanak believed they would. He gave him a firm look when he said it was handy if you had to set up camp suddenly. The goblin was so sure that his invention would take over the new world market of engineering and cooking.

Greymur highly doubted that, it was amusing nonetheless. He seemed less likely to growl over the presence of the small goblin now he had him over a couple of times. Zanak improved once you got to know him better. Riselle seemed to enjoy his company. Her presence made the strange goblin babble even more about his early years while studying gnome engineering. Tales that Asalt enjoyed best.

The orc hunter was still skeptical about all these inventions.

He smirked though. If Jeri could accept Riselle, then why not add Zanak to the bunch of weirdo's he called friends or acquaintance, he figured. He would fit right in.

Now everything was quiet he enjoyed that for a moment. Making himself comfortable with the last of the spiced hare meat, a mug of rum and his small knife. He even laid his leather boots on the table as he leaned backwards. He rarely did that. A strange, yet good night. The only thing that worried him was Riselles sudden decision to go upstairs. He knew her well enough by now to know that wasn't like her.

He played with the small knife between his fingers, making it roll over the tips and back like he had seen many rogues do. It was a trick he had to practice before he managed it. Jatfast taught him that. It looked imposing he always said. Greymur wouldn't call it imposing but it was fun to see how fast you could make it go up and down in your hand. If you weren't good at it you could easily hurt a finger. Not that he worried about that. He had experience enough with different sort of weapons to know how to handle them. Cutting himself only made him smirk. A little blood never killed anybody.

A large puddle of blood did. But he didn't want to think of that puddle of blood right now.

The knife looked black in the faint light of his kitchen. He stared at it, as his stomach tied a knot for a moment. "Razare," he said the name in a soft whisper. As if she was a spell he needed to cast.

Nothing unusual happened. There was no sudden ghost appearing from the world of the dead to haunt him. His mouth looked stern for a moment. Inside his head the massive wall he build around the memories from Twilight Highlands seemed to crumble for a moment, it wailed inside him when he remembered her."Cursed be the day," he said to himself, feeling the wall stabilize again to his own relief. He didn't like giving into old habits. Grieving the past wasn't on his list right now.

Besides, it was easier to focus on the now instead of lingering in the past. He chose to leave that behind as well as the old life he lived in his village. Today was the first time he was plagued with thoughts of Drahin and Razare since many weeks. The knife didn't help he realized, so he lay it aside. His frown deepened for a moment.

He gave it a moment to settle in his mind. Running his thought over how much easier it had been to focus his efforts and use the energy in things that crossed his path. About being friends with Hurias, Jeri, Jatfast and Asalt. About Riselle. He missed being completely absorbed in a hunt with Rena then to show willingness to think about a past that only gave him so much grief. He had no time for that he told himself. He rather occupied himself with delving into the strange habits the goblins of Ratchet seemed to have then to think of her. Not that he did not miss her, he did. Sometimes he felt ashamed he never honored her enough before she died.

When the Horde interfered with the rein of his old warchief and they ended that after a bloody fight, there was suddenly room to step out of the misery that was his life. When Zaela's sworn fealty to Garrosh Hellscream and took up the cloak of chief of the clan, he was able to leave Twilight Highlands. Gathering all his memories inside his head and stashed them behind a massive wall so he never had to look at them again. If he could help it they would be forgotten.

In Ratchet he really made a fresh start. Here there was nobody laughing or calling him a coward. A spineless orc, spitting at his feet as he walked by.

"Greymur?" he looked up from his thoughts, disturbed by the voice that called out his name. Riselle stood in front of the table, wearing a clean shirt he had provided her with from their last visit to the market. It was hard to find her something suitable from his own clothing, considering her size to his. But with a couple of new shirts and pants she seemed to cope well enough.

"I thought you went to sleep?" he said, a bit surprised. She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep. Besides, can't let you do all the cleaning alone can I?" she smiled at him as she piled the wooden bowls and spoons together to clean the table. When she wanted to take the small knife his hand stopped her abruptly.

"**Leave it**!" The growl startled her a bit. It was more a command than a request. He snatched it from her hand so quickly she stared at him. Greymur looked at it, then at Riselle as he sat back down. His eyes angry for a moment before his look softened. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, instead of apologizing. She shook her head. "I should have asked," she said.

She never touched things she knew he didn't like. Such as his axe. Not without permission. There weren't many things she wasn't allowed to touch, but it seemed the knife was another one to add to the list."I did not mean to offend you," she said, sounding apologetic. Greymur grunted miserable. "Riselle, don't!" he told her. She had that look about her again, the one that made her apologize for everything she thought she needed to apologize for. He hated that. Perhaps it was something similar to Jeri's need to dramatize everything. She lowered her eyes and focused on her feet for a moment without saying anything. Then she moved the piled bowls to the other end of the small kitchen.

"Will you stop doing that!?" the angered way he asked her to stop clearing the table settled the mood he was in again. She didn't answer him, her eyes narrowed after he snapped at her like that. He slapped himself for his head, he did it again. Sometimes it was hard to deal with the blood elf woman. She was different from Hurias, less likely to accept his blunt way of remarking perhaps, although he didn't try that out yet. He had more trouble finding the right words to talk to her then he ever had with Jeri.

"Riselle! Sit! Please!" He pleaded with her. She splashed the pile of bowls in a bucket of water before she finally gave into his request to stop cleaning up the mess. She looked unhappy when he told her with one look he was being very serious.

"I'd like to help out," she said, hoping he would let her. "I want you to sit down," he said stiffly. He pointed to the chair at the table."Give me a task, a small one? I'll gladly do something! Anything!" Was her answer. He shook his head. "You are a guest in my house," he told her again. Clan customs were still in his blood, even though holding on to those in Ratchet was a bit weird at times. But to bestow hospitality to a guest was one of the greater honors. How many times did his parents not host for one of the traveling shamans when they came to visit the village. His mother was always keen on providing the proper hospitality. It was who she was, and Greymur was taught with hard hand that you needed to respect your elder's ways. In Riselles eyes she seemed to be restless when he refused to let her do things around the house.

"When will I stop being a guest? I have been allowed to remain in your house as your guest for so long now! You have been so kind to me I find it hard to think of a way to repay you," she said in a sad tone. Greymur grumbled. "I don't want a reward," he said as he shrugged. She didn't feel like a guest. More like trespassing and receiving charity. Uninvited guest she called herself often. Imposing, unannounced after he was appointed as her guardian. How much time had already passed? She could not remember, but too much. After all this time she could not get used to the fact he still refused her to do anything.

"My mother would take you by your ear and tell you how highly inappropriate if you would not offer to help and make yourself useful," she said with a faint smile. He frowned. "I don't know your mother, but she does not make the rules around this house. Besides, my mother would scold you for ignoring the multiple requests to stop helping. Unless you were asked to help, then she would not do under for any sergeant," he said in a playful tone, surpassing her mother's rule in his eyes. It didn't make her less annoyed she wasn't allowed to do anything he noticed. She looked tired. Whiter than usual. But all blood elves were pale in his opinion. Fine, she muttered as she dropped her head in her hands while supporting them as she leaned her elbows on the table for a moment, watching him.

"Did they beat you with a stick to make you remember these rules?" she wondered. He didn't find that amusing."Clan custom always taught me to respect visitors," he said brisk when she reminded him of home again. "Maybe it is time to change traditions?" she tried. He didn't answer that.

"Maybe you should use that time you have and focus on whatever it is you seem to be bothered about!" he said instead. She looked at him. "Nothing's wrong," she claimed with a tight expression on her face. She lied, he could tell. "Nothing? I'll be damned if there isn't anything wrong. You act like bloody Rena when there is something wrong!" He grunted. He looked at her from his place, observant. She looked away for a moment. "Was it Jeri?" he asked. He already noticed she was a little restless tonight. But confronting her with it made her extra restless. She shook her head. He pondered for a moment. Riselle didn't seem to be cross with Jeri.

"Is it Hurias?" her mouth tightened when he mentioned Hurias, but she shook her head."I don't know what you mean," she said and just looked at her hands.

"Is it your brother?" she gaped at him. "There IS NOTHING wrong!"She said, placing her hands flat on the table as she stood up. He gave her a mocking grin."Is that a specific trait in your kin? To keep things as vague as possible? Are you not allowed to share your troubles?"He asked in a serious tone. Riselle spontaneously blushed after that. "Seriously, you're acting like Rena if I look at you right now. If something bothers her she can't sit still," he said, his lips formed a challenging smirk when she met him with a disapproving look and an open mouth.

"You're seriously comparing me with a wolf?" She said surprised. He shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe I should give you a couple of snacks to see if that eases your mood. Works with Rena. Why wouldn't it work for you?" he pondered. She gave him an unhappy look."I know something is bothering you," he said. Her face showed a difficult expression. With the corners of her mouth pulled down.

"Is it that obvious?" She wanted to know. He nodded. "Of course I don't have much to compare you with, since I don't know you any different than this. But I do think I know you well enough by now to see a woman who tries to keep herself hidden behind a well trained mask. You seem to forget I can smell when something is bothering you, and it reeks of more trouble than of the corruption that runs through your veins!" It was honesty. She knew that much. He tried to challenge her, to share the burden with him.

"You can smell that, cant you," she said. He nodded. She hears a rumor once that orcs were able to smell fel magic when a blood elf was close by, as well as fear. But hers wasn't the race that had to cope with the wicked aftermath of corruption by fel blood. The tainted fell magic caused the eyes of her people to glow green. The felblood caused his people to have a blood rage that was hard to control. Even though she was never bothered by any specific symptoms of the curse that seemed to roam her people, she knew she could have been less lucky.

The blood elf was silent for a moment. Her eyes thoughtful. As if thinking strategically of the best move to make.

"You can choose to tell me, or you can chose to keep it a secret, either way I know something is bothering you," he said, grabbing the knife between his fingers again. He dropped it from an arm length to see it fall down and pin itself to the surface of the table. Riselle got a bit of the jitters after she saw him do that three times in a row.

"Dangerous!" Was her comment. He pulled the knife from the table and laid it in the middle. Greymur looked into her eyes."You scold me? Like a child?" His face was dark, his teeth gritting. She bit her lip when he cracked his neck. Creating a very unpleasant sphere between them for a moment. But she refused to be intimidated by him. "Playing with a knife is dangerous!" She said, challenging his mood directly. Her tone very calm. "You're probably right ... if I had been a child," he said, his voice low. He looked at her again, with those observing eyes. She swallowed, very subtle. "I know you're not a child," she said, self-correcting, straightening her back, quickly covering her eyes with a hand to whip the strands of hair from her face. He saw the glint of tears in her eyes, very short. It remained still between them after that. With a long drawn out sigh he realized this was getting them nowhere.

"The knife belonged to my daughter," he finally said. Riselle gazed at it, raised eyebrows."She dies at the hand of my old warchief," he said. Greymur laid his hands on top of the knife, picking it up as he showed it to her. A simple iron knife with a black handle. Subtlety wasn't always his greatest asset. Usually he was straightforward, not insensitive meant, mostly plainly blunt. In a good way.

"I…I didn't know," he heard her say. "You could not have known, because I never told you," he stated. Hardly anybody knew about it. His fingers caressed the knife, remembering him of the child's hand that used to play with it. "She came to close to the black dragons. They snapped one of her arm from her body like you could snap a cord in half," he said, his eyes somber for a moment.

The cries of clan members calling for the healer, his captain urging him to come for the sake of his only child. The scared look on Razare's small face when she lay there, asking for him while she was bleeding to death. The limb that was torn from her left a huge wound. And the choice his warchief gave him: To either watch her bleed to death, or end it for her. The last was the most honorable choice he could make he was told. If the healers would heal her, she would have to live a lifetime of shame with only one arm. There was no room for the weak he was reminded. Somebody handed him a large axe. But he hesitated too long.

His warchief made the choice for him by swinging that great big axe of his above his head and cleaving the body of the child in the large puddle of blood in one clean movement."You should be ashamed of yourself! Spineless orc!" somebody told him. And the repeated:"**Coward!**" he could still feel the spittle drip from his chin when his warchief walked passed him, leaving Greymur to deal with the pain and the realization he did nothing for his daughter. All he could do was mourn for her.

Drahin was furious. She claimed he killed their only child. He could not remember she held any love for Razare besides the feeling the child was more of a burden then a blessing to her. She was a blessing to him when she was born. Drahin always claimed that things happened for a reason. Although he himself had doubts about that. He did not think any parent should ever have to make the choice to end the life of their own child. Drahin said he refused their daughter the honor of leaving this world in dignity. He did not want to think of Drahin. She still left a bad after taste in his mouth whenever she appeared in his thoughts.

After that he was demoted. His warchief turned him into the village fool in front of the whole clan. He was branded a coward. A spineless orc. Most peons were braver then him they said to him. No coward should hold honor within the clan. Drahin took it as an excuse to leave him.

Drahin was the last person he wanted to think of really. She never valued the old traditions of the clan. The moment she tasted felblood she changed. The bitter truth about his wife became very clear when she accused over and over of Razare's death. Confronting him with the grief he could not speak of. She told him he was too weak to take care of her. Cursed blood. She wanted more; she could not remain connected with a husband that was branded a coward!

Her eyes had looked bloodshot when she claimed she was free of his curse and would move higher up the ladder while they degraded him. Perhaps he was glad she left him, since the aggression became many times worse after she drank felblood. His stomach still drew together at the thought of her. Aggressive, impulsive, greedy and mostly impatient were the best ways to describe his wife.

With that his honor was stripped from him as they degraded him back to the rank of nothing. He became unknown to others, a peon, because peon started from scratch to his warchiefs amusing words. The man seemed to find he showed mercy to Greymur, all he had to fear was the day the warchief decided to ban him from his clan forever. The worst punishment.

"What about you? Was it hard to admit?" He did not really know what she admitted to. It was mostly a wild guess to share something with her. Perhaps because he recognized the frustration so well she had to cope with. "You have no idea," she said softly. "Try me, you might find I also have two ears that are willing to listen," he said, quietly looking at her. The stiff attitude of the blood elf relaxed a bit when she shifted. She took a deep breath.

"I told you about my brother. After my father kicked him out of the house because he chose to become a warrior. He was never welcomed back into the family as he left a stain on the family name. Nobody knew where he wandered off to after he was told to leave. I went searching for him after that," she mentioned. He remembered she told him something about that. Her brother was important to her he knew. "Why search out here for him? Why not start closer to home?" he asked. She bit her lip, inhaling again. "I had more reasons to be in Ratchet," she began.

"That I already knew," he said, playing with the knife between his fingers again. She looked at him intently. "That night, when you told me your name and said Hurias was a clumsy person to spill a tray of beer over me? I was waiting for an answer from Gazlowe," she told him. He only nodded, without interrupting her.

"I was hoping he would give me a refugee status in Ratchet. If I would have that, I would automatically fall under the protection laws of goblin neutrality. In case one of Asathar's spies or family members would try and hurt me. We both know what he was capable of," she said, remembering him of the moment they rescued her from his claws. "Not even the Whitemorn family would dare to violate the rules of goblin neutrality, not even the mother," she said. It sounded angry when she said 'the mother.'

"She is, I assume, Asathar and his family?" Greymur inquired. She gave him a slight nod."Asathar and I, we go back a little longer. We both studied for scribe once," she said. Greymur said nothing, more new things he never would have guessed about her. "It was more something his elder brother did with me that got me into trouble," she mentioned. "Or maybe it was all entirely my own fault, I don't know, but it happened, "she did not look happy when she said that. "His elder brother is the father of my son," she blurted out suddenly. That drew the attention of the hunter. "A child?" He said without wanting to make it sound difficult, it was more of a confirmation.

"I have a son," she said, sounding proud. She also looked very sad after that. It explained her behavior he realized. "He is called Izoreas," she said. There they were again, the glint of tears that were suppressed.

"It was just one night I slept with him. After we drank too much. Father had been mean to Rotharian sending him off with nothing. And for what, because he chose to be a warrior because he didn't have the magic father did? I remember searched for him in all the regular places I could think of. But he wasn't even in the local tavern in Silvermoon. I hoped we could talk about it, perhaps I could have soothed fathers angry mood a little. But my brother was nowhere to be found. So I drowned my misery. Instead of my brother I met a man that seemed to share my misery. We drank together and talked. He did not look like one of the Champions of Silvermoon. At least not to me. He looked like a hardworking man with problems at home, just like me. Or so he made me believe," she hung her head after she admitted that.

"At first I did not know who he was, until I met him as Champion Lohurin Whitemorn on one of Saltheril parties. He introduced me to his wife. And then showed me the big trick with that bottle," she was angry he noted, very angry.

Riselle relived the moment Lohurin managed to speak to her alone when she stood a little separated from the rest. With that nasty grin on his face he had the nerve to tell her that he remember their passionate night well enough. Letting her know her performance was enjoyable enough. Since she was one of the feisty ones. He liked feisty women. She should have been honored to be one of those more memorable sexual partners he claimed, but she had no clue what he was talking about. Until he showed her the bottle and changed into that same man, the hard working man she slept with in the tavern. After that she felt like a lady of easy virtue he visited to have casual intercourse with.

Not only did she fell cheap, she felt tricked. It seemed to be part of the sport he enjoyed as he called it. To see the look on her face after he revealed himself and the little adventure he had with her.

He and his friends did it more often. When she told him she wasn't amused he made it very clear to her she better watch her tongue. Because his rank surpassed hers by far, and he could easily make or break her if he wished. Another thing she didn't like about him. The feeling of being worth less than the maggots on the Death Scar.

"I had never known there existed potions that could change your appearance," she bit her lip. She felt stupid when she admitted that. Greymur did.

"Drinks, items, enchants, anything you can think of really," Greymur knew. That she did not possess that knowledge also told him a little about her life in Silvermoon. Tightly ruled by her parents. Perhaps they did not find it useful to teach their daughter that sort of knowledge.

"It was supposed to be difficult," her shoulders slumped. He was not sure what he could say to her to her to ease the pain she displayed. She took a deep breath, wiped her sleeve across her eyes and looked straight at him.

"I found out I was pregnant not long after that. The last person I slept with was him," she said quietly. That entered them into the part the Whitemorn family played in this."Of course nobody was pleased to hear a rumor like that, least of all my parents. But his mother. Asathar's mother, she's dangerous! When she learned that her son had a fathered a bastard with me she wanted the baby. I do not know what she wanted with my unborn child, but I was not going to give him up because she claimed him. Izoreas is MY child!"If she wasn't so polite he was sure she would have hit the table with her fist. Something he found amusing. If it had been Jeri on the other side of the table, he would probably have to make a new table. Because Jeri could hit hard if she wanted.

"What would happen to a child in your situation?" She thought for a moment. "My parents weren't supportive. They were mostly ashamed of my behavior. My mother suggested that I would leave the baby at the orphanage, I was too young she said. My father was furious, "she said, giving half an answer to his question.

"Why should your child have been off worse with Asathar's mother?" Riselles face fell into a grimace. "That woman is diabolical! She's a demon worshiper! She is a woman who uses dark magic! I do not know what she wanted my child for, but I'm sure she meant no good! "Riselle almost spat the words out in disgust. Greymur found she held more anger then he ever seen in Hurias.

"That woman is cold down to the very last core of her black heart," she shuddered at the thought. Seeing the mother come too close to her again as she touched Riselles belly where the unborn child was growing. She stood chained to the wall in the basement of the Whitemorn summer mansion. And from the looks of the chains this wasn't the first time the basement was occupied with a prisoner. The mother had told her that she'd do anything for her children. And with anything she did mean anything. She had even gone so far as to make many of her eldest sons nocturnal adventures disappear in his favor. To clear his name and to have him keep his title. She either silenced them or bribed them. To be silenced by the mother meant to die at her hands Riselle later learned.

"She sounds like my late wife, a dangerous woman," he agreed. Riselle seemed surprised he mentioned a wife. When he did not mention anything else she continued. Still fuelled with anger for the Whitemorn mother.

"Smart and dangerous that woman. She is council member to the council of Silvermoon. My father was once a council member, until she managed to relief him from his duties. He became weary after that, easily angered. She loved abused her position like that," the bitter way in which it was said made him seriously wonder. So much anger bottled up in one elf.

"She let a warning go out to all the villages in Eversong and Ghostlands. Young pregnant female, highly labile on the run, probably in a state of confusion. I later heard that supposedly were looking for me. It seemed I was wanted for my statement against somebody that devised evil against Silvermoon. If I would not voluntarily testify I would be trialed for conspiracy against the city of Silvermoon. Do you know what punishment they give for treason?" She asked him. He could imagine.

"Death. Not only had I brought shame upon my family name, but this would completely finish me off. I was not in Silvermoon at the time but hiding in Tranquillien. To look for Rotharian and also to be out of my family's way in case I would run into them. In my current state it was rather impossible to leave Tranquillien without attracting attention," she clenched her fists in anger.

"If you're the only pregnant woman in the whole bloody area every nosy person knows enough," she said with repentance in the tone of her voice. She relived the moment Lohurin came for her. With that self appealing look on his face and that dirty smirk of his she so badly wanted to whip of his face. She really wanted to beat him if she could, but that would give him a reason to arrest her as well. So she went quietly. He was said to be her escort to Silvermoon. But they never arrived there. Instead she was held prisoner in the basement of their summer mansion.

Which brought her back to the subject of Asathar's involvement. She tried to find the right words to describe why she owed it to him to still live why he tried to kidnap her. But she could not find them, those words."Asathar helped me escape," she said. Greymur frowned at that statement. That was quite contradictory to what he learned about Asathar so far. Riselle noticed his surprise though.

"The same Asathar that tried to take you from Ratchet?"He asked, curious now.

"Asathar wasn't always like that. He was different once. Blood elves may have an addiction that isn't easy to control, you'll find most are capable of living with it. It has to do with managing yourself and suppressing the urge to siphon too much. And if you do it well enough, you should not be bothered by it too much. There are many different ways to the drive the lust from your body, simply by meditating an hour a day. Or by siphoning magic from creatures such as man wyrms if you still have the urge. But Asathar, he could not control it. He gave into his craving. It changed him into a wretched. "Asathar was more a wretched than the last time she met him.

Last time she saw him he was on the verge of ending his own life. An attractive man he had been. Quiet, withdrawn, one that lived in the shadow of his older brother. He had knowledge. Yet he never mentioned his brother was Lohurin.

Riselle only found out about his addiction when she was imprisoned in the basement and he came down to drain her. Draining her mana he realized something odd. She did not have one, but two manapools. One of her own, one of her unborn child. He was confused when he tasted her energy and stole half of her mana. Only when he had enough to resume to a normal way of thinking instead of the deranged way most wretched were, he stopped.

He had looked at her with discontempt when he recognized her and realized who she was. Most of all that she was pregnant. What made him chose to aid her she never quit understood, but he came to set her free. Also choosing to end his own life now he still held control over it. Before his mother could interfere.

"Back then he wasn't my enemy," she said. "The last time I saw him he ran to his own death. When I met him again he was vengeful, hateful, and acting on his mothers' behalf, "she said bitterly. "He talked about the choices he had to make. Why he chose to trust his mother I don't know, but he said something about her being able to safe him. A pact he made with her. So he came back for me, because that was the bargain. In order to rectify what he had done wrong," Riselle eased herself with a moment of pause.

She remembered she fled though the portal near Plaguelands. Managed to make it to a place where only ruins stood. A ghost town perhaps. If that mage had not been there she would never have survived.

"After Asathar said his mother was so keen on finding my son I made a promise to myself she would never lay her hands on him. Since I refused to give him to her, she would probably kill me to claim him for herself, if she could find him!" She looked quite aggressive as she stated that. Greymur could not suppress a grin.

One moment the fighting spirit took over and he could see why she was trained as a paladin. The next he saw her correct herself again and fall back into being that polite person she was. She pressed her lips together in a tight line as she looked back at the table."I'm sorry ..." she said finally. Greymur frowned again. "Whatever for?" he asked."For making you go through this. The last thing I wanted was to burden you with my problems," she said, embarrassed.

He shrugged. "You should never regret things that have happened. Mostly because you cannot reverse what happened," was his opinion. It sounded so logical. Something he had learned from his parents. "Maybe not, but perhaps I can change it, for my sons sake," she said bitterly.

"I came here to search for my brother. Knowing that my son was safe, but I did not expect Gazlowe could not give me that refugee status on the day we met. Perhaps I should have listened to Asalt when he warned me Gazlowe could not make exceptions," she confessed. Idle hope.

Greymur did not find it so strange that Asalt knew more when he listened to this. There was a long silence after that. The grey hunter knew that this was only a beginning. Opposite him sat a young woman with a problem, how deep the problem rooted he could only guess. Maybe is they hadn't met that night she could have traveled to another destination in hopes to find her lost brother. Undisturbed by Jeri, him, Jatfast and Hurias. Maybe it was easier if she had not been included in their game. Perhaps it would have saved her from everything else that had happened so far. Indirectly, he could not help it. After that it became an endless pile of problems he was dragged in without really realizing.

"Could I offer you a drink?" he asked, offering her the bottle of rum to sniff at. She looked disgusted for a moment before accepting it. He stood up to get another mug from the cupboard. So Riselle was a bit rebellious. A young mother who acted out of necessity for her own child. At least that was something he understood. The reason why she chose to act the way she did. Family was important. Regardless of your people, children were overall important. They assured the next generation and continued the traditions of the life they were taught.

Maybe their ways weren't comparable, but they both understood the love of a parent for a child well enough."At least you're not alone here," he said. Pouring her a mug full of rum. She shook her head. A faint smile formed on her lips.

When he left Twilight Highlands many things changed for him. Not only in his village after the Dragonmaw was accepted into the Horde and ended their late warchiefs bloody rein with his death as the Horde decided to interfere. In a very short time his village was turned into a harbor, allowing strangers. After she told him her story, he could not help but sympathize with her. Making choices was hard enough, making the right ones even harder.

He was glad she finally trusted him enough to share some of the burden with him. Compared to this dealing with Jeri and Hurias seemed but small problems. Her fight was yet to come, and she would need every bit of strength she could gather to fight against the much larger enemy.

The kitchen slowly dipped itself in darkness. The dying embers no more than weakly glowing coals under the cooking pot. He closed his eyes, suppressing a yawn. Riselle lit a candle.

"Don't you ever miss your old home? Your daughter?" she dared ask him. To her he seemed so at ease with the knowledge of losing a child. He nodded in answer. "We mourn in different ways I suppose," he said. He did miss his daughter. Perhaps not every day if he could help it, but often enough when he would allow himself to think about her. And with each time he thought about her his heart seemed to hurt as much as it did the moment he saw her die.

A bitter smile formed on his face when he looked at the knife again. Turning into a gloomy face. The thick wall he had built in his head seemed to tremble for a moment.

"Yes," he concluded between two large gulps of rum, eyeing Riselle. "It is difficult to accept choices you did not make. Because you always get the mess for free," he said. He tapped, making it collide against hers with a cheerful gesture. "Cheers!" He said. "To the misery that is the past, that we may overcome anything that will cross our paths," she only nodded.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23: Even a mother has a heart.**

"Is everything ready?" the woman that walked into the cold underground space looked around the small group that stood gathered there. Her eyes rested on each of them. All of her small little coven together, secretly kept in the basement of her summer mansion. Not that they were a great secret to anybody that lived or worked in the Whitemorn mansion. Still, they were known to only a few in Silvermoon that supported her cause. Mostly warlocks or those from that horrible assassination guild they formed underground.

The two silent guards on the inside of the room closed the door behind her as she elegantly picked up her robes a little as she passed the row slowly. The silent guards took their places near the door, two on the inside, and two on the outside. They stood like silent statuettes, ready and obedient. She liked obedience. From everybody. It was something she was born for. To rule and give guidance to those less fortunate persons.

"My lady, do you wish to inspect the two vessels we chose for the test ritual?" The young eager woman just passed into adulthood, she still looked like a girl. She was one of the latest additions to her group. And she dared to eye the Whitemorn lady openly, to Lilah's own annoyance. She gave the girl a disapproving look. The young woman quickly lowered her eyes when she realized she was doing something wrong. Before Lilah Whitemorn could make a random decision whether to find her amusing or to punish the young woman for being so bold. Before she could think one of the male members took the word, asking for her attention. Leaving the young woman to disappear more to the background of the group.

"My lady, I personally made sure everything was checked twice and nothing was done without my approval, just like you requested," he said, sounding proud of himself. She didn't remember giving him specific orders for that, still she gave him a short nod.

"Has the rest of the mansion been informed to stay indoors while we perform the ritual?" she asked. "Not yet my lady, but they will be informed shortly," he nodded. The mischievous look she gave him made him bow his head for allowing something like that to be left unattended. All she could see was the foul shimmering of his dark green eyes under his hood. She knew he had been taking more to siphoning magic lately then he used to. In him the curse of felblood ran deeper than in any of the other members of the group she formed over the years. It made him eager for more power sometimes she noticed, trifling with her leadership behind her back she heard as she was informed by one of her other members. "You did well," she heard herself say, praising him. The man didn't say anything, he only stood tall and proud. If she could see the look on his face he would perhaps have gloated to the others.

"My lady, your house alchemist gave us permission to use one of the female vessels, you probably recall her as one of the 'mistakes' you mentioned?" The man that spoke to her was becoming annoying and arrogant, she would have to tell him where his place was, now was not the time for that. She would find a way for that. He was becoming just as annoying and arrogant as Olpras had been. A puffed idiot thinking he had the better hand to anybody he met.

"What would I do without you, you did an excellent job, as expected," it was so easy to give empty praise if that made him run a little harder. If the man could blow up like a balloon he would take to the skies. There he stood, like a puffed idiot as if he just received a medal from Lor'themar Theron himself.

Lilah Whitemorn didn't like gloating arrogant people. She never had. She met too many of those that crossed her once too often. Her late husband had been one of those persons. She still loathed him.

The only times she really liked him was in the beginning, when he showered her with gifts and kept coming back to her for more. After they got married all he did was mock her. He was always gloating over everything. Always under her skin, making her feel unimportant.

A woman, as he always called her, did not need to interfere herself with politics. Leave it to the men to lead. How wrong he had been there. She didn't look at herself as some helpless female!

Where Olpras Whitemorn claimed that the greater tasks were meant for men to glorify over and not for women to break their pretty little heads about, she had her own opinion. That she kept in front of her all the time, telling him he was right.

He also claimed the better side of society should give the right example to those that were not so fortunate. He would never let a moment pass to remind her of the fact she had once belonged to the wrong side of that society. Her 'kin' as he so scornfully put it.

She still felt that vein at the side of her head pulse when she clenched her teeth together, hearing his mocking laugh echo in her head. What was her kin to him? The group that dangled down the food chain? Maybe once she had been part of those people, she was no longer. For all who knew her thought she was born a noble. Of an important family whose name died out during the war. Leaving her to be last in line with a fortune she didn't have.

She earned herself a reputation. Made sure she was noticed. And when she thought she had the right one, she launched herself in his lap. Like she did with Olpras Whitemorn.

She eased herself. Blocking that mocking sound from her thoughts. Olpras Whitemorn was dead and would remain dead. He would have died a lot sooner if it had been up to her. Thankfully she passed the requested amount of time to mourn over her late husband in dignity years ago. It didn't make her inclined to remarry. In the end he had been nobody to her, merely a major step up into the right direction of where she always thought she belonged.

He left behind a large family fortune, a summer mansion and their house in Silvermoon. Next to that she got to deal with a trail of disaster and four bastard children that tried to get a piece of the inheritance. Lilah was left behind a widow with two trueborn sons from a loveless marriage. Lohurin had been nearly fourteen when his father passed away. Asathar only four, a whimpering child clinging to his mothers robes. Nothing like Olpras. Nothing like her she always told herself. Everything he owned was now hers now. No cousins, no late lost family members or any woman that claimed she had a child by Olpras Whitemorn would get anything from that inheritance as long as she was still alive! And she made sure nothing would go to waste, like he had done.

If anything she could truly say about her children was that they both looked like their father. Lohurin was by no doubt a true son of his father. Since he started showed the same nasty family trait as his father had done before him. She wondered if that was a default somewhere in the Whitemorn gene pool, or something inside the brain that somehow created the misunderstanding he was allowed to sleep with other women outside of his matrimonial bed. Olpras though he had that right.

It was really a shame to see her eldest son waste his efforts in keeping up his father's tradition in that, instead of using his magic and train it; he used it to get laid.

He could have been great with magic, but he was lazy. So lazy it annoyed her greatly. She could never inspire him the way she could Asathar. The younger of the two sons was always eager for attention from her, and for magic. Even if he had been the whimpering child clinging to her robes once. He watched and learned from her when she studied and practiced.

He became good, stepping into his mother's footsteps. He would be a powerful member to her coven. So she sent him to study as a scribe. She even gave him his own robes. Only to find out he wasted himself on an addiction that could not be cured.

Her dream for him shattered when she found out was becoming a wretched. If only she paid more attention to him instead of wasting it on Lohurin…

She disappointed him so badly she could not bear to look at him. The one moment she truly grieved was the moment Asathar was lost to her. As Lohurin rather spent his time with his dimwitted friends or spill his seed in any feminine hole he could concur. And there had been many. When her husband was still alive and now Lohurin was mature. Her eldest continued that sport. Concentrating on Lohurin now Asathar was no longer her successor she used her magic to deal with things on his behalf if she needed. Even if that meant dealing with many small mistakes her son made in his father's honor.

They used to be a burden, later they became a welcome addition to the great demand of vessels she needed for her rituals. The only one she was concerned about was the one that got away. The pregnant one. From all Lohurin's adventures she seemed the only one to e with child at the time. And she only found out because there was a rumor. When she sought confirmation she got that from a friend to the girl. The so called friend pointed both of them out. A fertile young bitch, average looking in her eyes, from a wrong family line.

She had other plans with the baby when she was presented with that ritual book the forsaken brought her from one of his longer trips. The first book he brought her didn't work, but the last one was valuable. It was a farewell gift it turned out.

He didn't wish to involve himself with her demands anymore. She could not convince him. He didn't seem to be intimidated by her threats. Nor easily wooed when she offered him a position as her house hunter to collect that what she required. She was surprised to find this forsaken was untouched by the amount of gold she was willing to offer him. He politely told her he refused to renew their 'understanding ' as he carefully called it.

With that she was on her own. It was hard to find somebody new for the job and willing to meet her demands. Especially because it was done in secret and neighed to be illegal. According to some laws and rules it was only legal to test on living subjects while being part of the apothecary society in Undercity. Silvermoon did not approve of such things, nor supported it by laws.

Stupidly Lohurin provided her with many when people started talking. Even though she disliked Lohurin for continuing his father's reputation and spilling that precious Whitemorn seed into all these damned bitches, she silently praised him for helping her out in his own way. All he had to do was come to mommy and put up a little drama about a girl he could not resist, she would scold him, if she was really angered she would use a spell on him to punish him. Eventually she would take care of things. Those that threatened to seek out the council were easily traced with her network.

Mommy took care of them all. Some were easy, a little threat left and right, a bribe with the right amount of gold. Some didn't wish to cooperate. Most were common girls anyway. They would not be missed when she invited them to visit her to talk it over one more time.

At least he was smart enough to consider who he chose. The few girls that were from better families that posed to be a problem were easily dealt with. Was it an uncle or a father that needed a favor, a little money, a promise of a new position perhaps? Calling in a few favors and a little talk of that person that really needed a promotion always helped.

Mommy arranged it all. Nothing she could not handle.

But now Lohurin was married she had to restrain him from those adventures, keep him at home, to provide a family heir. Since both her sons turned out to be failures she had to find a solution to keep the family name alive, or all would be lost. Her lazy gem didn't seem to produce as much as she hoped he would when she married him to Anayis. The wife she chose for him was a beautiful young woman from a good family.

Instead she caught him going out on little errands, using potions to disguise himself to satisfy his needs with other women. He was too much like Olpras she realized. One son was too lazy and vain, the other too far into the process of becoming a wretched.

The bastard he fathered would come in handy at some point. If only she could get her hands on him. She sighed in silence. That was something she needed to think about. For now she needed to occupy herself with the upcoming ritual.

The eager young woman stood more to the back of the group when she scanned them all. A smile played on her lips when she rested her eyes on the same female. "You," she pointed a long finger at her. The girl nearly jumped up when she was addressed, afraid she did something wrong again."Go up stairs and notify everybody they are to remain indoors at all costs tonight. Come and see me in my chambers after you are done," she ordered. She nodded and disappeared while the guards opened the heavy door for her.

"The rest of you start performing the cleansing ritual before we commence to the test ritual," she ordered the group. They all nodded as one to her again, which made her smile icily.

* * *

><p>Asathar felt uneasy. His limbs hurt, his chest was caving in and he was losing more hair then he liked when he brushed it. Recovering from his trip took far longer than last time. When he looked at his hand he noticed there were more black holes in his skin then before. Another thing he didn't smiled wryly, realizing he was not going to improve. The time he could summon his demons with the snap of a finger was long gone. Each time he used magic it became more difficult. Just as when he went on a trip and returned more restless and in worse health.<p>

He wasn't going to get better was he. He sighed deeply. A sad thought when a rattling breath escaped from his chest. It made him sad to think like that. How much time would he need before he could go out again? Would it be the last time?

Tonight wasn't going to be much better for him. Not after there was announced his mother would hold a ritual and everybody was to stay in their room. He never liked it, it made him restless if they used such large amounts of magic close to him. He had to fight so hard to stay himself.

He looked at his weary hands,

He grumbled, feeling the magic they used for the cleansing ritual. It made him crave for more then he wanted. It was horrible to be able to think he yearned for magic or mana, how he could satisfy himself. And it occupied him more and more as the phases from blood elf to wretched became more noticeable. Arcane magic was once his pride, it was his burden.

On the small bedside table lay four crystals, provided with stolen magic from creatures throughout Eversong Woods. Collected by their house alchemist. He made sure Asathar was provided for. He gave him extra just in case the need was too great. Four was the maximum he was allowed, more would possibly speed up his process according to the forsaken alchemist. Asathar never fully understood why the forsaken alchemist even bothered to look after him. Knowing the ritual would make him agitated, the four crystals would be just enough.

He felt more than a little restless when he tasted the next phase of the cleansing ritual. When it was on his peek the left over magic damped through the walls of the mansion. He could smell it, the amount they used down in that sealed chamber. Mother's little coven was getting stronger. It must be some huge ritual they would perform tonight if she demanded a cleansing ritual first.

The restriction she demanded from everybody that was either living or remaining in the summer mansion was ridiculous in his eyes. But, as she always stated, you cannot be sure enough when you need to seal a ritual circle. This was true. If somebody wished to do harm in the ritual when not sealed properly a large amount of magic could have a disastrous effect in a small sized space. Or it simply failed the ritual.

Tonight would be another struggle to win it from the wretched inside him. If he gave into some of the wicked thoughts that played tricks on his mind he felt repulsed to even think that way. It was the wretched that spoke when he had thoughts like that.

He moved around in an irritated way. It would be time to break a crystal to feed his needs soon. Something he didn't enjoy. He never did. In his annoyed walk about his room he caught a glimpse of himself in a small mirror on the wall. He paused for a moment, glancing at himself. Once he had been handsome, with long blond hair. A friendly face. He held knowledge. Most of all he was different from his brother. Now he looked like a freak. He closed his tired eyes for a moment. To feel even more tired when he opened them again. Shamed over what gazed back at him from the mirror. Resentful to admit this was his own fault.

The more he learned about wretched, the more he ever regretted giving into his addiction at the time. Done in a period where he needed guidance from his mother the most and she let him down.

Most wretched, he learned, became deranged, angered, and aggressive. Symptom's he already noticed long ago in himself. As well as the necessary physical changed he went far as any written knowledge told him the effect was not curable. At least not yet. He could not find anything about reversing it either. Or at least nothing that was worth anything so far. He only found the scribbling of others that tried so hard before him and failed. Those who walked the same path, they all became wretched in the end. Or they died. Nothing he read in the library told of a success. Not even his search through the many scrolls gave him anything useful information.

His mother didn't seem to care much when she locked him up and deprived him from siphoning mana when she found out he was changing. She claimed she tried to help him by depriving him in solitude. Instead she sped up the process. Making him cry out like a dying man hoping to be saved. She locked him in the pit, that damned hole she had dug to use for punishment.

He looked at himself in the mirror again, repulsed by what he saw. If only she hadn't stopped him from ending it for himself. He could have left this world without shame. They would have remembered him as a blood elf, not as the shameful creature he was now.

"_Asathar! I can save you_!" he smirked sad when he remembered his mother's tears. She even grabbed his head in both her hands. He could never tell if she was playing him or really showing her true feelings. "_You were always my best! Let me help you. Please…you were always my best. You have the magic! The knowledge! You were always the best of the two!" _

She asked that of him. One last chance, after she had her guards rescue him from walking into his own death. And he gave in. She sounded true from her heart. Something he wanted to see from her, truth. She even signed the promise she made to him in blood. Sealed by the enchanted scroll he demanded of her. So she could not go back on her word like she had done so many times before. Why did he believe her? He honestly didn't know.

Instead of telling him how she was going to keep her end of the promise, she made him do Lohurins dirty jobs. Riselle became his case. His job was to hunt down the woman that gave birth to the bastard baby fathered by his brother. When he found out it was Riselle he didn't like. Of all people it had to be her.

He never wanted to hunt her. Nor did he want to dislike her for what happened between her and his brother. Perhaps it was like she said, she didn't know at the time. It made it more resentful to consider she did sleep with Lohurin. He remembered her from their studies. She was always friendly to him. He liked studying with her. Perhaps if he had tried a little harder and opened up to become her friend she would have not slept with his brother. She was a nice looking girl. Not from a bad family. She was smart, funny. He liked that in her. She accepted his firm finger when he told her she had to stick to her studies. But he never bothered to look beyond her.

It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. He could not change things anymore. Asathar looked wryly at himself. Eerie blue eyes staring back at him. The wicked smirk spread over his face in a wider fashion, the wretched in him. It made him look dangerous.

"Lamenting over what you lost but never truly had?" His brother stood unannounced in his door staring at him. His perfect hair matching his perfect smirk. How he loathed his brother."Why do you care what I do?" he asked, feeling that sudden urge to gurgle and cough heavily again.

"Did you know mother was hosting a ritual tonight?" Lohurin changed subjects as easily as he changed women and clothes."I am aware of that fact," Asathar answered, keeping in that cough that rattled through his throat. Lohurin smirked in a dirty way." I thought you would have been gone by now. You never stay long when you know she is performing a powerful ritual. Too hard to handle yourself?" he guessed. Asathar snorted loudly. "Perhaps now mother is occupied she won't urge you to make an heir," he grinned in dark way when Lohurin didn't look very pleased by that reminder. His brother and him never really got along. Lohurin was always the favorite, even though his mother claimed otherwise.

"You know, dear brother, I came across an interesting notion during my trip," Asathar said, looking at his brother. Lohurin merely raised an eyebrow to that. "I met Riselle," he said, pronouncing her name clearly to see the response. The gasp his brother gave him was so satisfying.

"Mother said you only saw her!" Lohurin said, looking at his brother with great suspicion. "I lied," Asathar laughed softly. A new dangerous smirk crept upon his withered mouth. "If that bloody orc would not have interfered with his damned wolf I would have brought her home, or I could have let her escape. I offered her the possibility you know," he said, sounding wicked when he said that. The urge to grab Lohurin by the throat was so….overwhelming. He nearly gave into the thought of watching his brother choke. But he didn't.

"I had her…and I had to let her go. Shit happens. She would not tell me where the baby was. She pleaded with me, stalling time. In the end I told her I could not help her. That I accepted the promise mother made to save me. The same bloody promise she will not be able to keep!" he snarled suddenly. Lohurin snorted. "**You fool! You had her and you let her slip through your fingers because of on orc with a wolf**?" Lohurin stared at his brother in sheer frustration.

"What about the place you saw her! Was that a lie too?" his lips pursed together as his jaw trembled in anger. All Asathar had to do was give him that sarcastic nod to tell him he never told the truth. It helped Lohurin jump the edge from self smugger to aggressive modus in only a few seconds.

"**You…You go back there and you find her again! Kill that orc if you have to! But you will find her and bring her to me! Or I will tell mother you lied!" **Lohurins eyes turned from mocking to evil. The face he showed not matching his usual pretty self.

"Temper, temper ,dear brother, you can always seek her out yourself. All you have to do is find her in one of the neutral goblin towns I claimed to have run into her!" Asathar laughed sarcastically. Lohurin stormed forwards. Knocking his brother to the floor in his anger. His eyes fixed on the small bedside table and the four crystals. With one hand he grabbed two of them, turned around and held them up to Asathar as he grabbed his brother by the hem of his shirt.

"Here's what I'll do!" he said, throwing the two crystals to the ground. Asathars open mouth followed them with a greedy look. Only to watch his brother crush both the crystals under his foot in a gesture that made the wretched in him cry out in anger. Lohurin laughed, mocking. Satisfaction written all over his face as he loosened his grip on the hem of Asathar's shirt. Asathar saw how the precious content of the crystals was spilled over the floor, vaporizing before he could put it to good use. He felt his hunger for them increase with every vein in his body.

Freeing himself from the loose grip of his brother, jumping with speed at him this time. Lohurin ducked the two white hands that grabbed his throat firmly. They clawed at the soft part of his neck, ripping open the blouse he wore, scratching his nails deep into the healthy white flesh below the collarbone. Deeper he clawed until he could smell the metallic odor blood could give when exposed to air.

Lohurin kicked him in his stomach, freeing himself of his brother. He kicked him in his knees, hearing the nasty crack of bones. Asathar fell to the floor clenching his stomach with both arms, groaning like a beast in his last living moments.

"**You fool**!" Lohurin screamed at his brother. **You did not have the right**!" Asathar wheezed in his anger, pointing at the broken crystals on the floor. Asathar remained wheezing for air on the ground.

Lohurin kneeled next to his brother, bringing his mouth close to his ears. "You are more of a disgrace to our family name. Now I know you didn't do your part of the deal to bring back that bitch, it doesn't matter anymore," he whispered in Asathar's ear. The younger brother was still hurting inside, not enough strength to recover quickly enough or he would have ripped open his throat from ear to ear.

"You know what….you're right! Mother will never be able to keep her end of the bargain. She merely tried to stall time for you in hopes to find a cure that doesn't even exist," he whispered, laughing in return."Did you ever wonder why she wanted that baby?" he asked, Asathar's hard blue eyes stared into Lohurins green ones. "To replace you, because you failed!" He laughed harder, finding himself very amusing. It made Asathar growl again. But Lohurin already jumped back to his feet, to be sure his brother did not get a second chance to grab him.

"I hope you enjoy your confinement tonight, because I heard this is going to be some hell of a ritual. Good luck, without your crystals!" He mocked his brother before he left the room and closed the door.

* * *

><p>Lilah Whitemorn was thrilled. Exited even when the whole group looked at her. "Do we all know our place? Do we all know our task?" she asked. She got a nod from all of them.<p>

After the cleansing ritual was finally finished the night already cast its dark blanket over Ghostlands and Eversong Woods. She didn't mind that. Ghostlands was a withered place full of left over scourge, wraiths, angered spirits, walking zombified undead, and abominations that needed to be cleared out if she had a say in it. While the everlasting autumn of Eversong Woods and the ruins of the city were the reminder how they failed to protect their once glorious city with the death scar running up to the very walls. She didn't really care about that. There was a reason why she kept her rituals away from the city. Too much hassle if she was caught and had to explain the large amount of magic suddenly used. Rules stated that any magic used within city walls needed to be traced back and allowed by the council. A stupid rule really. Out here on the border of Ghostlands and Eversong Woods she had it all to herself. The ability to use as much magic as she wanted. Of course she took the precaution to proect the mansion with multiple enchants and magical barriers. You never knew what was lurking out there.

Tonight she felt she was on the verge of discovering the one thing she had been searching for. And if she translated the ritual correctly from the demon tongue it was written in, this was a large merging ritual. Something she could work with!

"We are ready lady Whitemorn," the male came up to her again, he seemed to think he was spokesperson for the whole group. She was too excited to be annoyed about it now. Lilah Whitemorn, now dressed in the same robes as the rest of her group, looked at the small altar that was lit with many candles. "Where is the knife?" she asked, looking at the large book that was carefully displayed on a holder. She could almost feel the dark magic that was used to write it.

"They told me to cleanse it for you," the eager young woman from before gave it to her, holding out her hands as she kneeled before the Whitemorn mother. "How thoughtful of you," a smile played on Lilah Whitemorns lips when she figured they probably punished her for her eagerness. Such a shame to dip the knife with the blood of both the vessels.

"Fetch me the bowls to collect the blood in," she ordered the young woman. She was gone without protest. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"You, make sure the vessels are ready to be brought in," she told the arrogant man who nodded. "You don't wish to inspect them first?" he asked, forgetting to add 'the my lady' when he spoke to her. It annoyed her when he made them sound like equals. She gave him a dark glance. "I already did that with the help of the one I chose to lead the ritual with me for tonight," she announced. The man was silent. "I…I am not leading the ritual with you this time…my lady?" he sounded taken aback. She smiled cold at him.

"Does it matter who I chose?" she asked him. He muttered something under his breath.

"I..No my lady, it does not. It was just…I performed several of the last rituals so I automatically assumed you would go over things with me," he dared to say to her.

"You assumed wrong," she informed him. "Simply because you lead two rituals under my guidance does not automatically make you my second in leading the rituals. I decided to bestow that honor on someone else, as she seemed so eager to please me earlier," she told him. The man seemed to stiffen with that answer.

"But…she has no ritual experience at all!" he blurted out. Lilah cast a curious glance at him. "She does if I was correctly informed. Would I allow any inexperienced individual in my coven if they did not have at least some experience? The difference between you and her is that she will do exactly as I tell her to, unlike you during the ritual. This ritual needs to be perfect! It is not called a test ritual for nothing. One reason to put you on watch duty outside the circle tonight. You will walk your round through the house as we commence and you will report anything you see to my guards. If you do that right I may reconsider your proposal to lead the next ritual again," she actually smiled ladylike at him. Guard duty? He didn't say anything. He didn't even grumble. She could only imagine the wicked look he gave her. She told him his place and dismissed him as easily as that when he sauntered of to do her bidding.

Lilah Whitemorn laid the opal inlaid ritual knife on the altar, next to the book. In the middle of the circle lay all the needed things to light the fire, the candles and use the small pouches of dust to enchant the small blue crystal she would use to seal the soul in.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, Lilah herself far too calm for the events that were going to take place. She looked around the room. Even small sized, it was large enough to easily house the ritual she was going to perform. The ground evened where the circle was carved out.

"It is done my lady," the eager woman told her. She beamed, so innocent it made Lilah smile at her. "I want everybody to take their places," she told the group. Not long after the two vessels were brought in. A human male and a blood elf woman. The male seemed to be under influence of the potion he was given, but the woman was wide awake. The ritual didn't translate if the vessels were supposed to be sedated or not.

Both the woman and the man were dressed in only a simple linen shirt and their underwear, their hands bound together. The blood elf woman was crying as she pushed forward to the ritual circle in the cold underground room. "Tonight you will do exactly as I say," she told the woman. "I will not let you down my lady," the young woman bowed her head to the mistress of Whitemorn mansion.

"Good," she said, turning around to face her group taking their places one by one. She went over the ritual again in her mind.

According to the translation she made from the book she started out by using the knife on the woman. With a trembling hand from excitement she beckoned the young woman to assist her and follow her with the bowls. "Let's do this," she said, her eyes shining bright.

The female vessel whimpered, trying to grab the robes of the Whitemorn lady when she recognized her. She pleaded for her life, begged for mercy. Anything to be free. All Lilah Whitemorn did was take the woman's face in her free hand and give her a cold soothing smile while nodding. "It will all be alright," she told her. The woman whispered a thousand times thank you to the Whitemorn lady. With the short nod of her head the woman was restrained by two cultists, her arm pulled forward as Lilah Whitemorn sank the shining ritual knife in the arm of the woman, commanding her eager assistant to catch any blood that started flowing. She ignored the pitch high screams of the woman the stuck.

Patiently she waited for the first blood to drip from the wound, watching it carefully. It didn't come quick enough. Perhaps the cut had not been deep enough? The blood came quicker after she drew the sharp knife in deeper and cut the woman's arm again. It dripped nice and evenly from her wrist into the bowl. It would have been so much easier to cut the artery. The main bloodstream would have sprayed out like a fountain. Lilah Whitemorn never tried to cut the artery of her victims. Not unless she needed a lifeless victim for something.

She commanded her eager assistant to fill a second ceremonial bowl when the first was almost full, no blood should be wasted.

After four bowls the woman stopped whimpering, looking pale. Lilah Whitemorn decided she drained enough of the woman for now. From the man she tapped only two bowls of blood. He didn't give a kick.

She ordered another to fill the carved runes on the ground with it. Preciously how the translation described to do it. The runes had to be filled with blood. It didn't say if the blood was supposed to come from the person that was to be the main vessel or that of the sacrificed vessel. She took a wild gamble when she ordered to use both the blood of the man and the woman.

When all runes were filled, they set the woman opposite of the sedated man in the middle of the circle. Reading from her description she decided she would have to take things slowly. Rushing a ritual like this was likely to make it fail. And that was not what she needed.

After the runes were filled the book told her she needed to protect the area where the ritual would take place. That was easy, sealing spells were her major during classes when she was younger. Four members of the group were positioned on all the four points of the circle, three in the middle of the circle. Her own position was at the head of the altar with her assistant. She softly started her incantation. Her calm voice spoke words in a language that nobody understood. It lit up the runes filled with blood, a dark red eerie glow they gave a strange glow to the surroundings of the ritual circle. As if it was liquid fire it spread itself throughout the carved symbols, runes, curves and signs in the floor. She could hear the silent breath the eager woman held when she continued pronouncing the proper words for the protective barrier spell.

A faint round orb appeared in mid air, lighting the room with a faint blue light for a moment before it changed shape. The shape became wider and flat. It formed a shimmering dome over Lilah Whitemorn and her group of cultists. The magical bubble sealed itself to the ground when she finished the last words in the strange tongue. "Excellent," she said, looking at her own handiwork as she could feel the tremble of the magic rush through her.

She wasn't the only one feeling the rush of magic. The whole house trembled when the protective barrier sealed. Upstairs Asathar still lay on the ground, his mouth dry when he felt the arcane magic fill the air with a large amount. His heart raced, his chest rattled, he wheezed, the pain in his knee too much to stand up. His thoughts unorganized. Unable to ignore Lohurin's last words. She was replacing him…

The broken crystals on the floor no use now they didn't contain the magic he needed so badly to keep himself at ease. He had to siphon something!

The other crystals were too far away to reach for him. Agonizing pain and lust for magic. It made him scream in anger, clawing in the air at nothing. Nobody headed to his aid. He was left on his own to feel the wretched inside him grow stronger.

Downstairs the Whitemorn lady saw her dome change color, as if it rippled. It was beautiful! The four outer members maintained it by repeating her spell over and over, which made it ripple and change color every time they renewed it. The ones on the outsiders of the barrier could only support them by singing, chanting, watching, and being aware of any danger. The guards weren't allowed in the circle for protection. Not here. They could not participate because they were not trained for this.

The next step was to light the blue flame with fire, then the candles, black ritual candles. She sang to them in the demon tongue, casting a spell on the fire that was lit with a fire spell by one of the members. Combined with her spell she could take control over the small blue flame. After that the candles were lit one by one.

The eager assistant chanted with her, loudly and in tone, unlike the male had done. She had a good voice for this Lilah realized. When the spell was done she looked at her assistant. "Fetch me the crystal," she told the young woman. The three others opened the pouches for her with enchanting powder. When she returned with the items she laid the crystal in a pile of dust on top of the altar. Lilah Whitemorn watched the blue flame come alive. She could feel the warmth of the fire through her hand when she reached out for it. With a smile as she made the blue flame dance and swirl around. It looked like a snake, as she made it curl towards two vessels to bind them. The rest took a few steps back so the flame could pass. It remained where she commanded it.

She cast another spell, this time a white light beamed from both her hands, straight towards to the male vessel. The white beam of light went straight into his chest . There was a loud crack. The man stiffened after a moment, coughing up blood before he fell over as the white beam ripped out something from his chest. A vague transparent appearance of the male was floating through the air, chained to the white beam. Lilah Whitemorn seemed in trance when she bound the soul of the man. As if he was wrapped in spider silk. The crystal was glowing brightly by the time the soul of the man was wrapped. She touched the crystal, the blue crystal slowly absorbed the beam while she chanted a new spell. The runs shone brighter when she finished the spell, making them change color like the protective barrier.

Upstairs Asathar gashed a series of curses from his sore throat. He cursed his brother, he cursed his mother, and he cursed everything. The wretched within him became stronger than his old self, taking over the last part of his sanity.

Smelling the magic used in the ritual and not able to participate and siphon it to his heart's content almost made him crazy with desire for it. A black saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, leaving a black trail. His eyes rolled up and down in their sockets as he coughed like a dead man. He never even heard the squeak of his door opening.

Bare feet stood next to him calling a soft: "Asathar?" out to him. Anayis's voice rang in his ears. She kneeled beside him as the silk of her gown brushed his face when he realized she was very real. He stared at her, with this maddened look in his eyes. For a moment he was scared the wretched would try to hurt her, but he fought it.

"Anayis…get away from me!" he rasped. She shook her head. "Hush…I heard your call, but I was too afraid to come down. When there were no guards outside my door I came as fast as I could," she said. "Go away…I'm not myself," he wheezed heavily. "Why are you lying on the ground?" She ignored him, eyeing him. "Are you in pain? Can I help?" the waterfall of words was too much for him. He looked away from her not to be tempted to do something horrible.

"I need to…I….go away," he whispered at her, his throat dry. A horrible cough made him gasp for air. The gurgle producing another spittle of black saliva he spat on the ground. He detested that so much. She didn't look shocked, instead she whipped his mouth with the sleeve of her gown. How brave of her. She looked at him, he nodded into the direction of the crystals on the table. She stumbled over to reach for them, hurrying back at him. She broke one beside his mouth. He instantly drained the content. The shivering yet satisfying breath when the magic filled his veins was scary. His heart stopped racing for a moment, easing him. How good that felt.

She broke the second one, cutting her fingers on a shard as she felt him force the content away from the crystal that had been sealed for that one purpose. With that amount he felt the wretched inside him subdue to its normal size, scampering back to the corner of his mind. It cackled at him, a warning finger that it would get the upper hand in him some day.

"Lohurin broke two of the crystals," he managed to say when he felt his strength return. She pulled him up, finding his knee in a rather strange position when she helped him stand. He gave he a sign to remain silent about it. So she did. "I don't have any crystals," he heard her say in an apologizing way. "Don't worry," he said, feeling the irritation of the magic from down below give him goose bumps on the tight skin of his arms.

"Drain me!" she offered. He stared at her, was she serious. "If it helps, please, drain from the little mana I have," she worried he could tell. "Anayis…please don't tempt me, not you. Go back to your room before something happens," he said. He almost felt regretful to say no to her offer. "It's the ritual isn't it?" she guessed. He nodded. "I can't stay here, it's too much," he said to her. She nodded, she knew that.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she looked at him, this bright young beautiful woman. She reminded him of Riselle somehow. "You deserve so much better," he told her silently while resting heavily on her. "Hand me the clothes from the closet, the robes, I need those. And the staff," he said. She helped him sit on his bed.

"Anayis?" She looked over her shoulder when he called her name. The lovely smile she gave him was heartbreaking. She knew. "Thank you," he said, from the bottom of his heart. She smiled, after that she left him.

Downstairs the ritual commenced. Oh how beautiful it was, to slowly see the blue crystal absorb every bit of the soul of the man. If the soul was inside the crystal she would magically seal it with the help of the enchanted dust. Meanwhile the flame danced around, moving in the opposite direction now. She made the fiery snake taunted the woman simply by commanding it. Physical strength was something amazing. It brutally teased her, a tongue so hot it left stripes of burn marks on the woman's face to her own amusement. The woman would eventually stop screaming. Holding power like this gave Lilah Whitemorn a strange and blissfully overwhelming sensation.

She toyed around a little more with the woman. Laughing. Torturing the woman could not be too harmful for the ritual, not since everything went so well.

Upstairs the door opened, a pair of eerie blue checked the hallway. No guards, none of her bloody coven walking their rounds to his luck. With the hood of the robes pulled far over his face and leaning heavily on the staff he could not see anybody. There was only silence in the hallways. How convenient. Surely she would have a few check the halls occasionally.

His head was spinning, he felt nauseas when he tried to lean weight on his leg. The knee felt like it was pulverized, not that it mattered.

Lilah Whitemorn took the ritual smoothly into the next step. Sealing the soul of the man in the blue crystal. It was a long slow process to do it right. The spell gave her power over the soul, she could have tormented it like she had done the woman, but a tortured soul would be unwilling to cooperate. While the runes changed color again her lips formed silent words, finishing the sealing of the man. Under the monotonous chanting and murmuring of the people inside the protective barrier it almost sounded like music.

The orb of translocation was never noticed with the amount of magic being used downstairs. It forced him to shiver in more pain when he touched it. Sucking him down from the floor where he was to the area below in a mere seconds. The power surge too overwhelming. The side effects would be horrible. It didn't matter anymore he told himself.

Lilah Whitemorn felt relief when the crystal remained blue. It meant she could use it. The assistant was ordered to hold the crystal while Lilah Whitemorn concentrated on the flame again that circled around the woman. Now was the moment she had been waiting for. The fiery snake squeezed itself around the woman. The female vessel screamed in fear when it burned her skin. It gave Lilah Whitemorn enough irritation to force the flame through the woman's chest. She moves spastically. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets as they became white. The flame made the woman levitate from the floor, ripping the ropes that bound her wrists together. She hung in mid air with spread arms, her back bend in a painful angle. And all that happened because Lilah Whitemorn ordered the fire to bend the woman to her will. How delightful.

Her eyes fixed on the woman, she made her tumble over in mid air as she laughed. The fire made her dance like a puppet on a string if she wanted too.

On the outside the door opened again, the guards didn't ask anything. He did his job. Letting in the member that came back from his round. They all looked the same to him."Anything unusual?"The guard on the inside did talk to him. The man stood still for a moment as he was eyed suspiciously by the guard that closed the door. "Well?" he said to him. "Nothing unusual," he answered with a rattling breath. "Be sure to check again in half an hour," the guard told him strictly. All he did was nod. With that he was left alone.

Before him was a dome that rippled and changed in color every time they renewed the spell that kept it up. Even the protective barrier spell would be enough to satisfy his needs if he could absorb the magic from it. It was amazing. The magic was paradise for him. He could feel the saliva drip down the corners of his mouth again. It stained the front of his robes.

The best part was he looked like all of them, wearing the same outfit. The group never paid attention to him.

Inside the dome he caught a glimpse of his mother performing a spell. She looked concentrated. When he looked closer he saw a woman floating in mid air. The amount she used made him want to slurp it down to the last drop. His breath rattled in his chest, making him cough. "Be quiet!" somebody told him. The poke she gave him hurt his ribs as he tried to keep his breath as normal as possible. "Anything unusual on your round?" she asked him. He smirked, shaking his head. "Did I….miss anything?" he whispered to her. "You're missing out on half the ritual if she wishes you to commence it next time!" the female cultist said to him. She took him for somebody else he realized.

When she focused on the ritual inside the protective dome again she didn't pay him any more attention. It gave him a chance to closely watch was going on inside. Through the ripples of changing color he could see something bright being held up. A souls hard? This was how his mother was going to keep her end of the bargain? Seriously?

A dirty smirk nobody ever saw formed on his face. Covered by the hood of his robes he snickered. Silently he moved to a dark corner of the room where nobody looked at him, using his staff to lean on.

Lilah Whitemorn kept the beam steady. It would connect the two souls and merge them in the body of the woman. It all went slow but steady.

Under the veil of magic a new magical pact was forged, sealed with enchanted dust and bound in a spell. The arcane link between the male soul and the woman who was going to host it. When the protective dome rippled for a second - hardly noticeable- she heard the four renew it. It didn't change color this time. Instead it rippled again. Disturbed. The fire she played with was disturbed as well.

One moment the crystal was nearing the woman's body, ready to enter her. The next it smashed to the ground. It broke instantly. The soul escaping from it with a gasp as it floated out and disappeared. Lilah Whitemorn looked at her hand. No! This was not right!

The protective dome rippled again. Resolving a moment later. Her cultists tried to renew it, instead their magic was sucked away. The blood in the runes boiled for a moment, the flame that was fed by her magic flickered for a second as it dies as well. Leaving the body of the woman to fall to the ground with a sickening sound. She didn't move anymore.

"Nooo!" Lilah Whitemorn saw everything fall apart in front of her eyes. Then there was sudden panic ... coven members were frightened, running like mad people across the room. A fear spell? Lilah Whitemorn watched the chaos in front of her. The room that had been filled with magic was sucked empty in moments.

"**No! No**!" she cried out, looking around if she could find the culprit of the sudden chaos.

She found him, and she put a stop to him. The chaos bolt she conjured with her hands aimed at him. It shot across the room through the feared crowd of people as it made a straight hit. The person tumbled over. The draining of magic stopped. The fear spell stopped as abruptly as it had started. She saw the dark shadow that was unleashed by the chaos bolt creep around the person she aimed it at. The groan sounded painful before the spell wore off. She already cast a new spell at him.

The haunting spell she unleashed made him scream in fear. Nobody wanted a ghostly appearance in their head to frighten them. He stopped moving halfway the duration of the spell.

Gone, her whole ritual was gone in one moment. Whoever dared to do this to her would become the vessel for her next ritual. And she would make sure it would be as painful as possible before being killed off. Guards were already present, grabbing him by the arms as they pulled him up on his feet. Her jaw looked tight when she walked over, the vein in her head pulsing with annoyance.

"No mercy for the fool that though he could disturb my ritual," she snarled. Her whole coven was silent when she stood in front of him. With one rip she removed the hood from his face.

"A-Asathar? This can't be!"Only to reveal the last person she expected. The eerie blue eyes of the wretched that looked back at her seemed satisfied. Blood dripped from his nose and his mouth as he heaved heavily to breath.

"No! No! This must be a mistake! Reveal yourself! Dispel this imposter!" she called out. Her eager assistant made a good attempt on dispelling it for her. Nothing happened. Lilah Whitemorns lips trembled when she order it again and again and again. Nothing happened.

They laid him down on the floor on her orders. Her hands were trembling when she touched his face. Those eerie blue eyes following her every move. Asathar's chest heaved up and down slowly as he coughed up more blood. "**EVERYBODY OUT**! **NOW!**" She demanded, screaming at everybody that tried to come close. She was left alone in the room with Asathar. Her trembling hands clutched together as she sank to her knees. There was nothing ladylike to her anymore.

"**Why? Why did you ruin it! You were supposed to stay in your room**!" she cried out.

"**Why couldn't you listen! This was all for you…everything! The whole ritual, the practice. It was all to save you!**" He felt her hot tears drip on his face. Real tears as she grabbed his face in both her hands.

"**WHY**!" she demanded, shaking him a little. "The bastard," he managed to gurgle as he looked at his mother. Her face was nothing like the cold woman he knew her for."He was supposed to host your soul! He was to be your vessel! You were supposed to be my little boy again! I was supposed to start over again!" she cried. More hot tears rushed down her cheeks as she looked at him. For a moment he smiled at her, a warm smile before his heart stopped beating and his eyes stopped following her.

She sat there for a long time, closing his eyes as she held him in her arms. Long hours passed before Lohurin dared to come and check on her. Only to find his mother weeping over the dead body of his wretched brother.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Have I got a deal for you!**

Jeri stretched her arms and legs, yawning loudly as she pulled the blankets back that slipped from the bed. She had the whole room to herself. And she slept like a baby the past couple of nights knowing she was once again welcome in Greymur's house. In reality she was never really excluded, but she just needed confirmation to know for sure. It felt like they left her out. Then again she never asked. She assumed.

Of course there was still the issue of the female elf. And she was not really looking forward to put a lot of effort in getting to know her. But ugly girl, as she called her in silence, didn't turn out to be such a horrible individual after all the chaos she caused. It was more because she was a woman that Jeri had trouble with her. She never liked other women before she knew for sure they didn't pose a threat to her femininity. She wasn't used to sharing her boys with another woman. Certainly not one that took up her chair and was all friendly with her husband!

But, as Jewels put it in easy understandable terms for her, she could either get to know the girl and find out what her story was, or not visit Greymur at all until the elf was gone. And from the looks and that system Zanak told her about, the elf could be stuck with it for a long time. She could not leave Greymur unattended for so long! With whom would she quarrel if he was not there to put her with two feet on the ground? Surely not Hurias. Pretty boy was too afraid of her if she was in her hurricane mood, swirling around emotional tantrums.

Jatfast was a good for nothing, he ran like a bloody rabbit when she declared war on him. He should have been honest with her!

She heard Jewels soothing voice in her head again when she felt that rage boil up inside. He should be left to have some secrets, everybody does Jeri.

Jeri moped after that. Why was her sister always so confident? So good at looking like she knew everything and was capable of Jeri-war-X with a single look and a snap of her finger. Because she simply did. Jewels was the one always bringing the peace offering. She always did.

She used to do that when they were small and all four sisters would be in a fight, Jewels was the first to stamp her foot on the ground and tell them to knock it off or she would become angry.

Jeri never recalled seeing Jewels angry. Perhaps in a profession such as hers you could not be angry. If it wasn't for Jewels she would never have considered making peace with the elf. Fine, she told herself, she would find a way to get to know the elf better. Perhaps she could think of a way to occupy the girl with and keep herself busy at the same time so she could combine the 'getting to know' part without feeling she had wasted precious time.

Time was in fact money, every goblin knew that. But perhaps this would make Greymur appreciate her more if she showed him she had no hateful feelings about the whole situation.

It gave her something to think about. Elves usually had a nice and curly handwriting. Perhaps she could have the woman help her out while writing payment plans, contracts and the arrangements for those DoP- LDaot losers. She nodded to herself. That could actually work!

Now Hurias wasn't here to help her with that this was the solution. She could use a little help with that part. Especially now the ones on this side of the sea were directed her way by her father. As the home office in Booty Bay only provided for the people on that side of the sea. Jeri was contact person in Ratchet for those who needed advice or a settlement with the 'Department of Payment plans- Loans, debts and other things' that was officially set up for those less fortunate people that could not pay off their debt.

Basically the department bought off the debt somebody owed to another. Usually it was a large amount of money. The difference between owing your debt to Dop-Ldaot and owing to a pirate was that the department looking into the matters together with the client. They would always have connections with work related environment that could use extra hands. Basically the ones that signed a contract with them would be put to work to pay back for their debt, with a small bonus of course. One could consider that covering extensive payment costs such as negotiation between the department and the previous person wanting his money back, setting up the whole plan for the client, contracts, over hours, you name it.

There were enough out there that didn't dare sign a contract. But then again it wasn't a well known concept yet. At least they would be assured their debt would get paid in the long term -with interest- and that family would not be harmed. In most cases people owing debt and not able to pay for it could lose a husband or a wife, or worse, children. It all depended on who they owed their debt to.

Jeri's father was one of the founders of this concept, together with a couple of his good friends. And Jeri inherited her father's business abilities. She became their main contact in Ratchet.

Things had been slow first, not that Jeri minded. Money wasn't the issue for her. It was mostly the time it consumed she had to take for the people that came to seek her out that bothered her sometimes. And when she checked her mail the other day her father sent her a list of two pages of names with people that needed settlements. If she read from the other mail she received one of them would come and seek her out late this afternoon. Another four of those people were to be expected in Ratchet soon enough he wrote. When they did she had to settle them and make sure they would sign that contract.

If she could spend time to get to know the female elf and combine that with work it would not all be a waste of time!

With a very satisfying smirk for thinking that out on her own she stretched out under the blankets again. If Greymur would allow it she would make sure the elf was useful as well. Jeri closed her eyes for a moment. Feeling a small ray of sunlight play over her face through the half opened curtains. The pale light of early morning announced yet another dry day. Not that it mattered. She had the whole day to herself if nobody showed up.

Enough about work. Secretly she hoped today would be left to herself and hoped the client would shop up the next day. So she could linger in the bed a little longer.

Jeri turned on her stomach in the big round bed and curled up like a caterpillar in all of the red blankets draped over it. She could build another fort with the large amount of zevrah-striped cushions she had over here. She rolled over to her side, ending up in the middle of the bed, feeling wonderfully lazy for a moment. Like a queen she felt, lying in the middle of that large bed. It took up most of the room. And she loved it. Jatfast had it specially made for her. A present to show how much he loved her.

A large round bed. He asked her what she liked better, a round or a heart-shaped bed, but the last was even a bit too much for her preference. Crazy silly Jatfast. Jeri's smile vanished when she suddenly wondered what he was doing right now, so far away on the other side of that great salty water.

Leaning on one of her red-striped zevrah pillows she wondered if he would come home soon. For a moment she looked at the door, perhaps in hopes that he would suddenly walk in with a tray of breakfast to spoil her with, as he often did when she was in a lazy mood and did not want to get up. Everything remained quiet.

With a sigh she rolled away from the cushions. Jatfast would probably have a laugh with or about Hurias with Jonas right now, while consuming something alcoholic so early in the morning. She knew he always liked to do that when he was somewhere else. The name Jonas didn't put a smile to her lips.

That stupid forsaken would probably negotiate with him about the price of the corpses he had brought for spare parts. They seemed to get along fine. And Snowy didn't seem to mind Jonas handling business with Jatfast on her behalf. Whatever her twin sister held against Jatfast she would never understand. He came clean with her. Jeri believed him!

Jonas and Jatfast seemed to share more than just a few laughs. Whenever he visited he would be well informed about the ups and downs of their marriage. What did Jatfast do, go to him for matrimonial advice? She chuckled loudly for a moment, marriage advice from a forsaken. She though alone could make you laugh out loud. Then why didn't it do the usual trick? She would have if Jatfast was here. But he wasn't. She pondered, brooding if Jonas was aware of Jatfast his writing secret as well. He would use that against her. It made her sulk for a moment.

Pfff…if only Jatfast had trusted her and told her of the writing career he desired! She would have supported him…not!

Writing career my ass she told herself. She would have laughed heartily and would have told him he was wasting his time. Mainly because he did not have the means to fantasize about something hot and steaming to put it in a well read story and mostly because he did not have a very readable type of handwriting. Writing didn't make you a good writer!

Now the author of the steamy novels, that was a person with a talent. Writing about Marcus and his adventures! That was a writer in her opinion. That person had a treasury of words that became a goldmine when they were put on paper. Jatfast didn't have half that talent. Though they improved on her after she entertained herself with some of his scribbled papers. His adventures were amusing, funny, hot even, yes, but nowhere close enough to give that thrill you felt when reading the true steamy novels. Certain described parts were read over and over for reasons, making pages stick together.

Even so Jeri had to admit that she was rather taken by his writing after reading the adventures of 'Miss Jade in the Jungle' and the short version of 'How to catch the heart of a rich man'. But still, they weren't as good as that of the author of the steamy novels.

Jonas would no doubt use it to gloat at her. Stupid forsaken! She was glad she did not spontaneously accompany Jatfast to Undercity, although she would have liked to visit Snowy once again. She missed her twin sister. If it wasn't for their war she would have done so. She could have gone shopping with Snowy. Or do another one of those picnics in the silent gardens of Undercity, eased by the bubbling green moat near the entrance.

She buried her head underneath one of the red zevrah-striped cushions.

That same stupid annoying forsaken was also nice enough to help her find that coveted red striped variant she adorned so much for the pillows on the big round bed. It had been difficult to find a red and white striped zevrah version. She didn't want the usual black and white version she already had in the living room. The forsaken tradesman managed to get his hands on the very fabric she wanted so badly. He even reserved a reasonable amount for her. For a small exchange of course. He wanted a new pair of fine leather boots. Jeri happily provided those for him if he was willing to renounce the fabric to her.

It was a good deal. She gave him a pair of fancy boots, he gave her the fabric. If they had something to bargain about they made an amazing team. But outside of that Jonas and Jeri were a bit like fire and water with a scoop of ice cream: sweet peace if they could make a deal beneficial for the both of them, on the edge of a fight if there was nothing to discuss that held a common interest in the form of a deal. Jeri was easily irritated by Jonas. Jatfast was not.

Sure Jonas wasn't always despicable. He actually held a business mind like any goblin if Jeri had to describe his. He could come by the weirdest things. But it was easier to call him stupid forsaken then to develop a friendship. More fun for her if she needed somebody to blame and Hurias wasn't around. She smirked to herself. Surely she adore him when he brought something she would find interesting.

Some of the wonderful knives and daggers she had were brought by him. And he was always willing to part with them for the right price or deal.

Most of her collection decorated the wall, like Greymur did with his weapons. His weren't as fancy as hers of course. Jeri would never display weapons in the living room, only in the bedroom. These treasures were hers to adorn and Jatfast to mutter about when she spent his money on another one.

Jeri simply loved bling. Especially the weapons inlaid with gems and decorated with gold she admired. It always made her greedy to see one of those preserved lost heirlooms. Of course she owed enough simple ones that were considered worth watching. Was it not the shape, then it was because they were specifically designed for a woman's hand. And Jonas knew she had a weakness for beautiful knives and daggers. A girl rogue could never have enough daggers and knives in her bad! Same went for make-up. She dreaded the moment she forgot one of her many colors of lipstick.

Jatfast would do well to bring her something back to try and make an attempt on sweet peace with her if he did not want her to explode. She might have forgiven him for keeping a secret to himself, she was not finished with him yet!

The fact remained that he was not aware being forgiven would work in her advantage. She would tell him afterwards. But that was not the point!

The point was he made her declare war on him and left her on her own for too long! If he had been hiding in Ratchet, instead of Undercity, he would have made an attempt to woo her back by now. He would have used the emergency savings account and emptied it that for that sheer purpose of winning her back. It was filled with coins especially for situations like this. You could call it the bank account of regret. That account held mainly silver coins and a few gold pieces to express the genuine regret Jatfast would have. He would always take it out of the bank and fill his money pouch with it before he would come crawling back and very humbly jingle it as he would lay it near her feet.

She would frown at him, pick it up and give him the eye. He would tell her how much she always meant to him in piles of money. How much she meant to him in foreign coins if he really felt sorry. He would do his best to describe how beautiful her eyes were shining like the silver coins in his pocket. And how her hair was golden like the gold coins when the sun would touch them. Usually it was him crawling for forgiveness. Such apologies usually ended up in a passionate night where the bedroom money pouch was jingled very often. Because the sound of jingling coins made Jeri excited.

She grinned in a significant way at the thought. Goblins were a passionate folk! Short fused yes, a bit explosive perhaps, but with passion. Unlike some of the more long-lived races, such as elves. Although Hurias was a young man that was looked at by many females in Ratchet when she was parading him around, he could never live up to Jatfast. It had never occurred to her to look at him in that daylight. The sort of daylight Adinna would have loved to see with him. She never quite understood what her cousin fascination with men from other races was. There went a shiver down her spine when she pictured Hurias lying beside her in the big round bed. Sure he had a good body to him, but he was also young and inexperienced in her eyes. It resulted in another loud laughter.

Laughing out loud was not so much fun when you were on your own ...

With Jatfast she knew where to look and what to expect. She could not imagine anybody better to match her then Jatfast. What would she do without him? Sure he was not ideal. But she knew him like the backside of her hand. Jatfast was an easy man to maintain according to Jeri. All he wanted was some respect for his macho appearance, appreciation for his masculinity and what he could do with it during sex. And when Jeri wasn't in the mood she was great in convincingly faking it to give him that smug grin on his face when he thought he had exhausted her. As long as he thought he did well.

It was the same with talking. If she did not want to listen to him, she gave him a knowing smile that would fit with any scenario he tried to picture her. She would nod at the right time, tell him he had had a hard time to cheer him up before she would pick up his leash and pull him back to command him around and do her bidding again. She didn't need a whip for that, she wasn't a succubus! It was all in the wrist.

If you wanted to win Jatfast's friendship, then you did him no greater pleasure than give him a tip for a lucrative deal. Or better, to make him feel important. That was pretty much Jatfast in a nutshell. The man of her life. The man she loved.

She wiggled her toes again, stretched out her arms to try and maintain that feeling she held, but could not find her feeling lazy anymore. She missed him.

* * *

><p>When Riselle came down that morning Greymur was already up and awake. He did not look very happy when she heard him grumble at Rena. The wolf ignored him openly as she looked away from him, as if she never considered it any problem at all that he was taking sticky thorn branches out of her pelt.<p>

Muttering under his breath he continued to remove the mess from Rena's fur coat. Repeatedly shaking his head. "Prick bushes after a night hunt?" Riselle guessed, looking at Rena. The hunter nodded. On the table lay two bloody baby rabbits on one of the linen rags Greymur usually wiped his hands on after he skinned them.

She looked a bit disgusted when she saw the two baby rabbits. Last time she saw dead meat that was brought in by Rena Greymur already removed the skin. This was different. Staring at two cute little baby rabbits. This was staring at death by giant wolf maul with sharp teeth so early in the morning. She hoped they didn't suffer. "They are a present," Greymur said dryly when he saw her disgusted look. She already understood that. "Want a taste?" A grin played on his face when she gave him a disapproving look. Of course he would not ask her to eat it raw.

"You should see her after we come back from hunting big prey. Gazelles, giraffes, zevrah's, or even better, something bigger!" There were wrinkles forming near his eyes when he laughed heartily. "Currently, hunting is slow, but when this is over I will refill my stock of meat so heavily I have enough dried meat to survive four winters," he patted Rena on her head. He had not really been able to hunt since he had received his involuntary job to guard Riselle. That was another thing she felt guilty about.

"You should come and hunt, it is a whole experience, clears your mid," he said to her. She grinned. "I am not a hunter," she said. He pulled the last thorny twig from Rena's fur coat, looking at her. "That has never stopped Hurias from tagging along," he said, frowning at that guilty face she had. "I might after I found Rotharian back," she said. He nodded, understanding she wasn't exactly planning her daily stay in Ratchet if she could help it. The elf was busy with other things.

"A mother should not be separated from her whelp," Greymur mentioned. Riselle agreed. "I'm sure you will find your brother," he went on. She hoped so.

"I bet he will jump for joy once he finds out he became an uncle," the hunter said, trying to cheer her up. It made her somber. Greymur literally made a shot in the rose with that comment. She knew her brother well enough to know he would take her side and would understand. He was the type of brother that did. "Don't worry, it will all turn out right," was the answer he had given her so many times before. She wondered, if she kept telling herself that often enough, would it really happen?

What if it's not going to turn out right? She wanted to ask him, but she didn't. She hoped with all her heart that the orc was right. It almost seemed as if he read her mind when he shrugged. "Sometimes you need to keep thinking that things will turn out right, no matter what happens. Stay strong in your head and your heart," he said, touching his own chest and tapping his forehead. She nodded.

"My, my, such gloomy faces on this beautiful morning!" Jeri's loud unannounced voice made Riselle freeze for a moment. It made Greymur smirk. "What is this I hear of thinking? You're thinking Greymur? You should not think at all! You know why? Because you possess more muscle than brains, "Jeri's said in a witty way that made the orc hunter grin.

"When will you learn to knock properly?" he asked. She smirked at him. She simply used her lock picking skills to break open the door like she usual did and let herself in.

"Hey, it's Ratchet, I live here. You're my friend, I'm allowed to do this!" she remarked to Greymur. Jeri gave him a head shaking pitying look, as if she'd ever make an attempt to knock. Of course not counting the exceptions that she did. "What if I had walked around naked?" he said, the half grin that formed a teasing look on his face made Riselles eyes large for a moment. Not exactly the kind of information she wanted to hear. He gave her a good-natured grin and a silent nod into Jeri's direction. Jeri pressed her bright blue painted lips together in a so-called grimace. Then she gave him a challenging look.

"Then I could tell Jewels if you had a hairy ass or not!" Her eyes gleamed in a certain way when she made that comment to him. Greymur's laughter boomed through the kitchen loudly. Riselle watched the scene with raised eyebrows. It was good to have her back he admitted. Same for Jeri who felt like her old self again. "You have to forgive her a little Riselle. Jeri here is a whining little annoying green piece of work," Greymur announced. Riselle smiled subtly as she looked at the goblin woman. Yes, that she could imagine.

"Pfff, listen to the unwashed savage that runs around in skins!"Jeri said in her own defense. Riselle gave them both a neutral look "At least you are well matched when it comes to saying something nice to each other," she noted. Greymur grinned. Jeri said nothing, she sat herself down on the chair opposite of Riselle, staring fiercely at her.

"You could call it that," she said, sounding offensive. She looked very serious at Riselle, as if the blood elf said something terrible. "Jeri, don't tease the elf!" Greymur's warning to the goblin female was made with a hint of sternness Riselle noticed. Jeri looked cool at Riselle before she broke eye contact. "Yeah yeah yeah! You deprive me of all the fun I was going to have in getting to know the elf!" She said. She tapped her yellow painted nails impatiently at the rough surface of the table.

Giving the baby rabbits a disgusted look before she laid a flap of the linen over them to not look at them anymore. "You should really have a meat block in here for chopping things up instead of leaving it on the table like that," she told him. "I have a meat block in the garden, I don't want that in my kitchen," he told her. "Shame, I would know a way to make use of that," she said, looking at Riselle again. The female elf snorted to say she wasn't amused by that. "At least you sound like most elves do when they are offended," she blinked her teeth at the elf for a moment. Riselle wisely didn't reply to that.

"Shut it Jeri! I know your ways," Greymur said convinced. Riselle looked from the orc to goblin. "I was only joking, you know me!" Jeri said, smiling blandly. "I know you well enough, she does not," he told her off. Jeri shrugged. When she looked at him she could tell it did to him. "Fine! Flipping coins, does it matter I don't know her yet? I was going to!" she announced. Greymur looked at her. "I did!" she told him. Greymur waited for more than that explanation.

"For your information I came here to show my good will! And this is your way of showing gratitude for that? I thought you would be pleased to hear I was willing to get to know your elf?"She said dramatically to Greymur while pointing at Riselle. The hunter was not completely convinced by her act.

"Is that really the only reason for your coming?" He asked. He clearly hinted that he did not quite believed what she said. "I thought I was welcome again?" Jeri protested as she jumped from the chair. "You are," he said. She stood there, rolling her eyes as she pouted her lips. "You should not doubt me so much Greymur Daggerscar! You should know me better than that!" Jeri did not look happy.

"With you there is always a 'but' to add," Greymur knew, looking whether she would tell him or not. She looked really angry now. "I am, aren't I!? You can't exactly blame me for her lack of humor if she didn't get the joke with the shopping block! You know me better then that Greymur, I would never really harm her. Why do you still doubt my intentions? "Jeri averted her eyes. She looked like she was never appreciated in her whole life.

"Maybe you can start by calling her by her name?" Greymur said. Riselle gave him a grave look. "Excuse me! Don't mind me of course, but do I have a choice in this as well? Not that I don't enjoy hearing you two bickering over me, or will you instantly break my nose when I refuse your 'kind' thought to get to know me?"Riselle inquired, sitting straighter in her chair. Greymur glanced at her. He wondered if he had been mistaken, was she still angry about that incident?

Jeri looked at her as if she was surprised to hear the elf object. "_Whatever… __you…want_!" Was Jeri's defiant answer. Riselle gave her a subtle smile, showing she was on her guard.

"Whatever I want? Meaning I have a choice in what you are going to break? Or in how you get to know me?"She played back the question in a handy way to Jeri's surprise. Jeri's look said enough. Greymur already made a first of one hand, to slam it right into the table just in case he had to come in between two arguing females. But Jeri tied in when least expected that from her. He expected her take this as an opportunity to be trouble, to start a quarrel between the two of them. Instead Jeri stood there, placing her two hands on the chair again as she pulled it further back, sat herself in place again and leaned her elbows on the table.

"The thing is, I recently received the opinion of someone that told me that I had to listen to another before I was ready to crush them with my judgment," she was not looking at Riselle but straight at Greymur for that. The orc gave her a curious look at first, which turned into a wide appreciative grin. Riselles however, did not. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as she looked defensive at Jeri. Not that it would stop Jeri from saying what she wanted to say.

"Yes, you do have the choice if you wish to get to know me better. And personally I would appreciate if you would allow me that chance," she said. Greymur looked smug for a moment. "Do I hear Jewels speaking in a Jeri way?" he said. Jeri muttered. "Oh you just wait for that date you still have with her!" Jeri said, ignored Greymur's laughter. She fixed her gaze on Riselle again. The blood elf lowered her arms and glanced at the goblin. "I'd like that," she finally said, and left her defensiveness for what it was.

"But if you like I can always break something, free of charge of course," Jeri's eyes twinkled again. She had to say that. "Thanks for that generous offer, I'll keep it in the back of my head," Riselle said.

"But," began Jeri. Greymur grinned, there it was, the 'but' she didn't claim to have. She stuck out her tongue at him when she noticed the way he seemed to be amused by this. "Now we're on the subject, I actually came to ask you a favor," she told the blood elf woman. Greymur would love to hear Jeri ask a favor from the one person she seemed to dislike so much. Riselle wondered why. "Don't say anything Greymur!" she warned him. He oddly grinned. Subtle the way Rena was subtle when she wanted a snack.

"Hurias usually helps me with certain matters concerning a job I have. Since he is in Undercity and I expect a few customers I could use some help, "Jeri explained. Greymur knew what she meant. Riselle did not."How is your handwriting?" The elf looked curious at that question. Jeri looking at the long slender fingers on Riselle's hand. The elf glanced, rather puzzled by these questions. How was her handwriting? Why did she wish to know?

"Elves often have a nice handwriting, you know the curvy type," she said, being very honest. "We're both women. Women often have a subtle way of writing. Hurias has a very acceptable handwriting for a man. He helps me out quite often when I do some paperwork for the clients I get. So I was wondering if I could borrow you in his place, "Jeri did not find it easy to dress this well and make it sound like a proper business proposal. With Hurias she would usually snap her fingers, yell:"Hey pretty boy!" This usually got his attention. Since Hurias was a very polite man he rarely refused a request from a woman. Principle perhaps. To give him the idea he was really needed Jeri usually gave it a dramatic turn when she asked him for the job. By saying that his handwriting was better than that of many others. And that she really, really, really needed him or that she would die of shame if she could not hand over a neatly written payment plan or contract.

Greymur knew how sensitive Hurias was when Jeri played his strings right. Riselle was a whole different matter.

Riselle seemed interested enough to consider it. But her thoughtful face turned to Greymur. "I'm not sure I'm allowed much at the moment?" She held the arm with the iron band up, she was still wearing the transmitter. Greymur nodded. Riselle had a point. "She's right. I can't let you walk around alone after what happened last time. I am responsible for your welfare. I do not think Asalt will thank me for it when I let you go alone with Jeri," was his reply. Jeri looked crestfallen.

"I thought that house alarm system was made for the purpose to make her walk around Ratchet?" Jeri remembered Zanak explanation well enough. He pointed out the benefits of the system that night at dinner. "Yes, but not since that incident with the elf," said Greymur. Asalt had tightened Riselles restriction after she was taken by Asathar and crossed the boundaries of Ratchet.

"So you might as well be in one of Hazer's cells if you can do nothing but sit around here all day?"Jeri almost felt sorry when she looked at the elf. Riselle nodded. "Boring if you have to look at his ugly face every day," she said. Greymur looked at her, shaking his head. "I do get out, Greymur tries to take me places," said Riselle. Jeri frowned.

"Wouldn't you love to spend some time alone? Both of you?" The goblin rogue looked at both of them. Riselle narrowed her eyes, she was silent. Greymur sighed. Jeri gritted her teeth for a moment. "Oh don't tell you are still stuck on that clan hospitality tradition of yours are you?" Maybe Jeri didn't know much about clan traditions, she did know he held them in high esteem. Suddenly understanding a thing or two more about the situation.

Riselle gave him a warm smile when she looked at him and said:"Greymur tried to make me feel like a guest despite the circumstances, welcoming me as much as possible." She sounded appreciative to Greymur, Jeri had to admit, not something one might expect from an elf to an orc. Surprisingly to others Greymur was a person that wished to be as far away from his own kin as possible. Even Jeri knew that. One reason why he ended up in Ratchet. Here they didn't judge him for his cover, here they took him as he was, not questioning his past. Something he never really shared much about. And they had been friends long enough by now.

"He's always like that. You know he did the same for Hurias when they first met? Giving him hospitality by allowing him to stay in his house and others thought he would not make it in Ratchet. I see a resembling pattern here, since he's doing the same for you," she mentioned to Riselle. Jeri bit her lip for a moment, motivation might not always be shared, but Greymur had his reasons.

Greymur was silent there. "Hey, they still talk about you at the mines you know," Jeri smiled. Not just a smirk, but a smile. Perhaps Riselle didn't quite understand this strange friendship yet, but she would if she allowed Jeri in. "So you're not allowed to go somewhere without the big bulky hunter. Well, I can work around that," she said, giving the situation a thought.

"What if you would come to my house so I would settle my clients there? I have all the paperwork at home. She could help me and you would not have to worry about letting your dutiful eyes drop when she is working under my supervision! What a great idea!"Jeri clapped her hands. Greymur hesitated. "Too risky if there is a spy among them for that elf that took her," he said. He didn't wish to risk things with the knowledge there were more people out there hunting Riselle.

"Oh come on Greymur, where's your sense of adventure! You can't keep her locked up in the house forever. She needs to move around. She needs to be occupied. Not just be a guest. Gove her something to do!" the goblin rogue knew him well enough to remember he didn't allow Hurias to do anything in the beginning.

"What if I would bring my clients here then? You could check them yourself. Besides, there is no telling if somebody is up to no good anyway. There's always a gamble. Most of them are the type of losers that need the help from my father to save their families from certain misplaces threats!" she said. Turning the idea into the direction that sounded even more appealing to her. If she could do the paperwork here, she would not have the trouble of cleaning things at home. She could see it as an office!

Greymur thought about it. He knew she was right. Jeri snapped her fingers suddenly, giving him a smirk now."I see you aren't very willing. Fair enough. But what if I could make you an offer you could not refuse?"Jeri said with a certain look in her eyes. Greymur frowned at her. "If I can settle my clients from your house with the help of the elf, I can make it worth your while!" She suddenly sounded different, even Riselle noticed that immediately. "I have a deal for you, Greymur Daggerscar!" Jeri announced. "You're going to make me a deal? I'm listening," Greymur said rather amused, yet curious about this deal.

"You're a hunter, what would you say if I could arrange you a new bow or a very good gun?"She looked brightly at him after that question. Greymur let his fingers strike through his beard for a moment. "You seriously wish to bribe me?" he laughed. "I'm not bribing you, I'm making you an offer! You live in Ratchet, get used to people wanting to make you a deal," she told him.

"You really need help that badly?" he asked her. "I could use a little help with the amount I have that will need settlements," she admitted. "Exactly how many people are we talking about?" he wondered. Jeri took the folded list from her pouch and unfolded it for him to look at. "This amount of people," she said. Greymur saw long rows of names scribbled on the piece of parchment. "At least half of this list will show their faces within a fortnight," was her reply. "Without Hurias this will take weeks," she didn't sound so confident anymore, rather desperate.

"I see," he said, still stroking his beard. His eyes fixed on her. "Not saying I'm admitting just yet, but you know guns aren't really my thing. And a standard goblin bow isn't really strong enough," he said. Jeri grinned immediately. He basically told her he was interested. "Not a goblin bow, you silly! A good bow! A strong bow. One with a far range, easily usable with your posture," with her arms she described a wingspan almost Greymur's length when she described the bow. Not that Greymur was an extremely tall orc. But the bow required strength and skill to master.

"Exactly how do you come by a bow like that?" he asked. "I still have a few friends who live in Orgrimmar and owe me a favor or two," she said, folding her hands together and putting up her business voice. "What kind of bow are we talking about?" Riselle asked, finding this highly interesting. Even though she never really mastered the bow herself she remembered Rotharian had always managed one. Like her he had a skill for certain weapons. They were always matched to each other when they sparred. Good bows were hard to find.

"One of those twisted longbows?" Jeri said. Greymur looked surprised when she mentioned that, he was thinking she would mention a normal bow. "A twisted longbow," he repeated while Jeri nodded, sure she could convince him to make a deal for that. "They are expensive to make. In Orgrimmar they knew how to price them when I asked for one, "Greymur remembered. He could not afford it then.

"I know that, but I can have people look around and bargain a little on my behalf." Jeri's blue painted lips expressed a smile, one that indicated that she was not fooling him. "I see that you are interested," she said, almost rubbing her hands together. Greymur grinned. Riselle held her thoughts when she observed his interest in bows. Of course he would be interested in a bow if he was a hunter. "I know for fact yours is getting old," Jeri didn't know it yet, but she helped Riselle think of something when she tried to lure him with that bow.

Greymur shook his head eventually. "The sound of that bow is awfully nice I'll admit that. But the fact remains that I cannot decide for Riselle whether she will help you or not, "Jeri's gaze turned to a question. She never even considered that. Riselle smiled, followed their conversation with great interest. Jeri looked at Riselle suddenly. "Help me out here pretty girl! This is in your interest as well! You're spoiling my deal here if you don't say something! Surely you don't wish to sit indoors all day being useless!" She muttered. Riselle scowled at the fact she was called pretty girl in a way she didn't like. Jeri flinched for a moment, realizing she treated Riselle the exact way she treated Hurias."Yes, ehm…sorry, it was not meant the way it came out," she apologized, looking horribly sorry for a brief second.

Greymur laughed when Jeri actually blushed. "Hurias is gone and she already replaces him for you!" Riselle didn't know if she found that so amusing. She had trouble finding the balance between offended or appreciated. "I'm not exactly property. I doubt Hurias is either," she mentioned, counting the two odds together. Greymur didn't help when he said:"Jeri here parades him around like she owns him." Jeri gave him a rude gesture for that. Her face became dark, why did people always have to make it sound like that?

"Assuming that I am not offended by what you just said, I want a part in this deal," Riselle face softened. She actually opened up the possibilities of negotiation again. This came as a surprise to Jeri. "If I'm willing to help out. Would you take that bow as a gift for some of the hospitality that I enjoyed so far?" She looked at Greymur. Greymur doubted openly. This made her come to her next point."It's that or I will do things around your house without your permission to feel useful! Doing nothing makes me crazy," she said. Jeri smirked, it seemed Riselle was on her side here.

"I like you," she said spontaneously. However Greymur did not jump in just yet. Accepting a gift after someone had enjoyed hospitality was not uncommon. But in case of Riselle things were different. She was still a guest in his house and there was no telling how long this would take.

"What if Jeri can arrange that you get that bow on the day this all ends? To celebrate my freedom? Would you consider it a gift without feeling offensive? I will take you up on that hunting offer if you like," she looked at him hopeful he would not deny her that. Greymur's face went from doubtful to a secure look. "Only when this is over," he said, holding out his hand to her. Jeri gleamed at Riselle when they shook hands to seal the deal. The deal between Riselle and Greymur was struck. Now all Jeri had to do was play this in her favor.

"Aaaww…you just made your first deal! And to think I really considered breaking your nose again if you refused me anything," she said, taking both their hands in hers. "Why am I not surprised," Greymur said. "You can bring your clients, but only during the day," he added, wondering why he had said yes. Jeri looked at the elf who smiled. "What would you like in return for helping me?" she asked. Knowing that Greymur would go against them if she would not offer something to compensate Riselle.

"My services are repayment for that bow. The bow is my gift to Greymur eventually," she said. "I think you should add a decent dress or robe to that deal. So you have something to wear instead of those pirate outfits," Greymur said as a joke. Riselle smiled shyly, that was a good idea. He had bought her clothes, but a dress they did not find. Mostly because Riselle refused most of the things that would cost more than a few gold. She didn't wish to burden him more then she already did.

"A dress? Fine deal! I can arrange that. A bow and a dress! You are easy customers!"Jeri's loud voice sounded cheerful.

"That simple? I could have asked for a full plate set!" Greymur laughed. Jeri looked at him angrily. "You're such an asshole sometimes! Fine! What do you want? A normal plate set? Or a fancy plate set?"Jeri wanted to know, calculating how much more she could ask in return if the deal would change. Riselle helped them both out of the dream.

"A dress would be fine," Riselle intervened. Greymur looked at her. He wanted to help her with the loss of the plate set that was stolen in the beginning. "It is unfortunate that my jade plate set as stolen, but once I find Rotharian we'll figure it out," she hoped. "It got stolen? That is a shame. That was a really nice looking plate set you were wearing," Jeri recalled. "And to think Jatfast joked about stealing that himself if he could have," the goblin rogue blurted out, chuckling about that, as she crossed the plate set from her imaginary list.

Riselle didn't say anything about that. Greymur did that for her. "Jatfast would have done what?" Greymur asked slowly. Jeri looked in trouble for a moment, before she threw in a girlish laugh. "Oh, you know him, silly husband of mine! He always jokes around. You know him and the way he sees deals, time is money. Plate is more money!" Jeri said cheerfully. Greymur cocked his head, looking at her in a stern way. Jeri's giggles ebbed away when all was left was a miserable grin and frowned eyebrows when she looked at him.

"I think I might need to have a chat with Jatfast about that," he said, cracking his fingers for a moment. "Oh come on Greymur! You know he's always joking about making a few coins if he can," Jeri bit her lower lip. Her hesitation made the hunter wonder about a few things he needed to clear out for himself when Jatfast was back. He did not say that to her. Instead he left it for now.

"Sooooo!" she said, trying to change the subject. "The elf will help me with the clients I need to settle with a payment plan or a contract. You allow us use of your house for that. That way she will feel useful, I am helped and you get to do your job by keeping a dutiful eye on Riselle here. What a smashing deal we have! In return for those services you get a twisted longbow when she gets free, and I arrange a nice dress for her? Yes?"Jeri quickly summed it all up one more time to be sure.

Greymur was silent about the plate armor. They both nodded. She shook both their hands to seal the deal. "Good! I'm glad I could do business with you," she still held up her business voice, even though Greymur was sure Jatfast had some explaining to do to her as well as to him when he got chance.

"With your figure there are plenty of available robes or dressed that we can try. We'll go tomorrow! Even better, we'll go together, Greymur can chaperone us, yes?"Jeri's eyes twinkled. The hunter only nodded. "I hope your handwriting is fast," she said, Riselle smiled. "I studied for scribe once," she said. Jeri's smirk became even bigger with that knowledge. "This is going to be great! Let me quickly get my stuff before the first clients comes!" She was very fast Riselle noticed when she was in her element.

"You did not have to do this," Greymur said immediately. "But I wanted to," she said very decidedly. She had no idea how she was ever going to repay him for his kindness, but she hoped this was a small start for everything he had done so far.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Hurias in Undercity.**

Hurias sat himself at one of the empty tables in the inn in Brill. He presumed it was somewhere morning, but he could not tell for certain. Here the everlasting gloominess of the surroundings Brill was settled in never seemed to tell if it was early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Only night was obvious enough to him. Time passed slowly for Hurias here.

"Good morning, good morning," the joyful tone set by the goblin mage that walked down the rickety stairs was almost laughable if he considered where they were. "Didn't you hear the clock strike noon a moment ago?" Renee replied in her dark voice. "Renee, you truly are sunshine in Brill aren't you," Suarez mocked her. She gave him a dark chuckle when he passed her.

"Speaking of sunshine. Did drama queen decided to join us or does he still lock himself up in his room?"He asked when he only saw Hurias sitting at the table. The elf nodded. "Still severing from a severe case of Snowyness, says he won't come out until Jonas shows himself again," Hurias mentioned. Suarez shook his head in dismay. "Oh boohoo, he needs to pull himself together, he's married to Jeri," Suarez replied.

"So, what will it be this early noon, ladies?" Renee asked in an ironic tone when Suarez sat himself down. He gave her that mocking grin again. "The usual," Suarez ordered, fumbling with his money pouch. Hurias bit his lip. His money pouch was nearly empty. Now Jatfast was abandoning them, he didn't have many resources left to pay for his food. Jatfast promised him he would take care of everything, but for the time they spent here he seen little of that promise. Since money became really tight for him he tried to think of an excuse to not order anything at all. It wasn't as if he could walk into Greymur's house where food was plenty and he could pull a chair to the table dipping in to whatever there was on the menu. The hunter had plenty of meat. He wasn't troubled to share that with Hurias after he got fired. But Jatfast decided to pout in his room rather than face Jeri's twin, and basically left Suarez and Hurias to venture for themselves.

"How much was your soup again?" he asked quietly. Suarez eyed him. "Stomach still not settled?" he wondered. Hurias nodded silently, leaving it to count for an excuse so he would not have to think of something else to lie about."You might want to try some bread, more suitable for your stomach now you seem to be holding the content. You can't solely survive on soup," Renee mentioned, staring at him with her strange yellow eyes.

"I'm fine," he lied. "He'll have the soup, and some bread," Suarez ordered for him. Hurias opened his mouth to say something, sending Renee off to get their order. She turned on the ball of her foot. Her boney shoulder slumping when she walked away.

"I don't know what promise Jatfast made you, but he takes poor care of his employees if he forgets to feed them," the mage laughed. He held up a small pouch that seemed to be filled with coins before he put it back in a larger pouch to the side of his belt. Hurias felt a small blush creep up to his cheeks. "Don't worry, Jatfast might be the rogue, but I stole the money he had left. I say fair deal for leaving us like this!" Suarez his grin was wicked when he said that. Hurias gave him a small smile for that.

Jatfast's mood didn't really improve over the days they spent here so far. All they got was whining, anger and drama. According to Suarez this was a classical case of denial. It had something to do with an argument between Snowy and Jatfast. Whatever it was she said to him, she seemed to have stumped over him like some heavy artillery and crushed him into the ground, basically leaving him to feel very sorry for himself.

"I'm not going to wait here until Jonas shows his face again," Suarez mentioned, laying his hands on the table. "I say you and I are going to have some fun. What do you say elf?" Hurias had to agree with him. "I was going to visit Jonas his protégé, Rotharian," Hurias said, carefully displaying his thoughts.

"Sounds fine with me," the mage smirked. Hurias already seemed to feel less troubled. Besides, didn't Jonas provide them with a proper tour guide in the form of Rotharian? At least he made sure they had somebody to turn to if they needed something. He could be found in the blacksmith area where he was working.

The young man had been very able to show them around. Surprisingly telling them bits of past that belonged to what made it the Undercity while guiding them through the dark areas. He seemed to know quite a lot about Lordaeron's history. But when it came to a real conversation about his past he became very quiet, Hurias noticed. Not unlike himself. Rotharian didn't seem to fear the forsaken he worked with though. They even improved on Hurias now he spent some time here. What raised questions was the fact Rotharian seemed to prefer the company of his forsaken black smith above that of any elves he had seen wander around the dark halls.

It truck Hurias first when they visited the royal court by their request. He did not refuse to take them there, but he wasn't exited to show them either. He didn't seem to be very keen to meet with the elf that introduced himself as ambassador Sunsorrow as he started a sudden conversation the moment he noticed Hurias and Rotharian enter. He wondered if they were in need of his guidance, since he was the appointed ambassador for Silvermoon in Undercity.

When the female paladin laid eyes on Rotharian she rudely interfered in their brief conversation and demanded Rotharian's full attention. It almost seemed the elf was annoyed by her. More than he wanted to show. She talked to him in a very authorizing way. Even though Hurias didn't catch much of the conversation they had, since ambassador Sunsorrow gave Hurias his full attention, he noticed Rotharian being uncomfortable around the female paladin.

The dark haired elf made sure they were out of there before the female paladin could engage herself in a deeper conversation that sounded more like an interrogation then a normal request of what their purpose was. Instead of more official gatherings he showed them the forge where he worked with several others blacksmith apprentices. Most of his daily job was to forge weapons for the troops to aid the war against Gilneas. All of his co-workers were forsaken Hurias noticed.

Even though he was taken aback by the many forsaken he encountered in Undercity, it did not stop him from visiting the forge, if he could find it. With the proper direction from guards he ended up with a detour the second time he came here. Hurias simply watched and stared when he saw Rotharian actually work. Not only because of the weapons that were made but also because of the way the elf slung down the hammer with force to bend the metal he was working on his anvil. Hurias was very impressed, since de never possessed such strength in his arms. The easy way Rotharian was able to spent endless hours in the smithy, hammering away without being tired amazed him. Most of his weapons were standard like the others made them, but in his spare time he worked on his own designs. In his spare time he worked with his creative mind, combining several designs together in the appearance of his swords and knifes. The young man seemed talented in what he did. This made Hurias question his own abilities. Since he wasn't particularly good in anything.

"The soup is warm," Renee helped him out of his thoughts when she served the soup in a simple wooden bowl on a plate with a piece of bread to the side. Suarez paid her the money for their food before he settled with his own bread.

"So, what's it going to be today? Visit the forge, yeah? Then head of to Silvermoon?" he asked with his mouth full. Hurias was silent on the Silvermoon subject at first. "Why do you wish to go there?" he asked politely. Suarez whipped the spilled crumbs on his face with the sleeve of his robes when he shrugged. "I don't know, always wanted to see the place for myself. And extend my portal. Knowing your coordinates is important when you conjure your portal," the mage said, his smirk growing wider when Hurias nodded understandingly. "If you didn't know the coordinates to lock the portal spell to, you're very likely to end up somewhere you don't want to be," Suarez explained to Hurias. The elf had no idea's about portals and coordinates, but it sounded logical to him. the idea of having to visit Silvermoon didn't really appeal to him right now, something the mage noticed.

"But I don't mind if you don't wish to go. I can always come back. It's easy really. And Silvermoon it but an orb away," he said, taking another bite from his bread. Hurias smiled. He actually started to like the mage. Suarez had sided with him whenever Jatfast snapped at him. Of course he never said anything about the many jokes the mage made about his, but at least he was reasonable. But here he was, stuck, waiting for something to happen. Suarez wanted to go places, see things. He liked that. Hurias gave him a disgraceful look when he saw the mage stuff his mouth.

"I was thinking of buying a weapon from that elf blacksmith, if he is willing to barter over the price," Suarez made disgusting sounding noises while trying to chew on the last oversized bite he could easily have divided in two. It made him look greedy without knowing. It also made swallowing difficult enough to empty his drink in one go before he started coughing loudly and clapped himself on his chest with a fist to get rid of the feeling he was chocking on a piece of bread. "Stale bread, hard chew, I like the bread I ate in Bogpaddle better to be honest," he said, whipping the sweat from his head. "So, let's go," he hurried Hurias to finish the soup. "Are you as good as Jatfast is at bartering over prices?" he asked. Suarez gave him a nasty smirk.

"Who knows, let's find out," Suarez mentioned, jumping up from the chair. Hurias quickly drank his half warm soup, taking the bread with him to eat on their way to Undercity.

* * *

><p>The sound of a hammer on an anvil echoed against the high walls of the underground hall the forge was situated in. Rotharian threw his arm back with force, working the muscles in his arm to cope with the weight of the smith hammer that now lay balanced in his hand, ready to be swung back and hit the metal on the anvil.<p>

"If you work that hammer well enough you could kill a man with a single blow to the skull," Mirelle said to him. She had a half-rotten smile as she looked at him. He glanced back at her and smiled deviously. The hammer hit the anvil with a hard cling that rung his ears like a bell. "I think there are better ways to kill a man then with a hammer," he answered. "Really? What would be your preference?" She showed him a toothy grin of a left over stumps of rotting teeth. "A sword," he said between another swing of his hammer. The warm metal was bending more into a curve when the cold of the smith hammer hit it over the rounded edge of his anvil. "A two handed sword. But I could also prefer dual wielding two fine balanced ones," he said, checking his work. He seemed pleased with the result of his hammering before he set it aside and took the piece of metal to the bucket of water. The smoke was heavy to his lungs when he breathed. When the smoke disappeared, the red glow of the metal disappeared after it stopped sizzling in the water.

"I bet you have a good set of those," she said. "How's that creation of yours coming along?" she asked, hammering on the blade of a sword she worked on."Still unfinished, but we're getting there," Rotharian told her. James van Brunt had helped him work on one of his designs. It was a butterfly motive for the handle of a knife. The only one he ever made on his own was left in care of his younger sister as a gift.

Here he started again thanks to Jonas. Mirelle Tremayne gave him a weird smile, her jaw hung a bit when she did. He wondered if she ever had been pretty when she was still alive. What was left of her suffered enough with all her replaced parts and sewed skin. Mirelle never explained what exactly it was she had done in her previous live, but according to Jonas it had something to do with the Scarlet Crusade. There were more that served the cause of the Scarlet Crusade in a previous life before they came back as forsaken. Renee the innkeeper was another one he knew about; apparently she had been a captain when she still had a beating heart.

Mirelles past did not matter anymore, just like his didn't matter. He wasn't questioned about it. Nobody ever asked him about why he left Silvermoon and worked in a forge in Undercity. All they did was do their job and live in the now, leaving their previous lives for what they were. "If you need a hand let me know," she said, working the forge to heat up the fire again. He nodded, returning to the next weapon that needed to be adjusted in the same curve as the previous one. As the day progressed he noticed little of it. Working enough hours it seemed the days passed him by often enough. Working in the forge made it easy to forget the hours. His routine was good enough to leave him time to ponder.

"Elf, finish up and come and see me," James van Brunt stood watching him, his own hammer over his shoulder. The arm that held it more bone than flesh. Rotharian only nodded. He let the metal sizzle in the bucket before setting it in the sword rack against the wall.

* * *

><p>"I always get lost around here," Hurias said, unsure if it was the right corner they took or not. Suarez chuckled, enjoying the worried look the elf gave him. "Simple, see it as a giant circle. And somewhere in between the forge will likely be found," he explained. If it was up to Hurias the design of this city had too much defaults. The last corner they took ended them up near the herbalist. Greymur would have insisted on visited the herbalist, if only to know the special types of herbs that grew around Brill if he wanted to pick some.<p>

"How long do you think Jonas needs to make the necessary arrangements for Jatfast?" he wondered. Suarez chuckled. "Forsaken have an eternity?" Was his reply. Unfortunately they did. "But drama queen will have to come out sometime. He can't just abandon us. If he does I will take us back to Orgrimmar and he can arrange a zeppelin ride for himself to get his ass back in Ratchet. Simple as that. You can't expect to make a deal and not stick to your side of it," to Hurias that sounded reasonable. The next corner turned out to be a surprise. It lead them to a high pile of stacked coffins, he nearly bumped into them. Hurias stared at the rows of coffins on top of each other. He stared, wondering if they all contained dead people or not. "Watch it elf, precious load there," a goblin told him before passing him in a quick pace.

"Well, well, seems we get some quire folk around here today," the voice made him chill for a moment when he looked to the side. "Welcome to the spare part shop. Or the forsaken ride, whatever you want to call it," the woman had hair as white as snow. Her lips were painted a dark blue to match her nails. He literary stared at a copy of Jeri."Well hello handsome, where did you suddenly come from?" she asked, looking him over with a specific smile. Suarez poked Hurias and grinned when he saw the elf stare at her.

"Jeri?" Hurias muttered before realizing he said something wrong. The woman laughed loudly, her voice equal to Jeri's. She raised a thin epilated eyebrow to him when he mentioned the name. "Jeri? No, no, sweetheart, wrong sister. This is the Horde Coffin Hauler workshop. Jeri is on the other side of the salt water," she said, seemingly amused by the mix up. "I'm so sorry…I really thought you were Jeri for a moment," Hurias instantly apologized, feeling utterly stupid he made such an easy mistake. The goblin woman with her snowwhite hair smirked at him:"No worries, handsome, happens to me more often then I like. I do have a twin by that name," she said in a flamboyant way. Making a gesture of herself in one smooth go. "And looks can be deceiving. Of course I'm the better looking version of the two of us," she said heartily, adjusting the pin in her hair as she walked up to him. Hurias could have sworn he was looking at Jeri. He remembered Jatfast telling she was Jeri's sister, but he never imagined she looked so much like Jeri.

"So tell me, how does a handsome guy like you know my sisters name?" she laughed. Hurias rubbed his eyes for a moment."I…I work with her," he stuttered, recovering himself from the sudden shock. Snowy eyed him. Her smile divine as she looked him over a second time, liking what she saw. "Really? Well, fancy that! Now how does my dear sister manage to lure some handsome piece like you to work for her?" Snowy tilted her head as she watched his expression turn into uncomfortable. "I ehm…I..She is a good friend of mine," he stammered. Suarez slapped him on the shoulder.

"My friend here is a bit nervous around Undercity," he said, shifting her attention to him for a second."And you are?" he received a rather cold look from Snowy when he introduced himself to her. She hardly gave him any notice before turning her gaze back to Hurias. It left Suarez without a work for a change.

"Hurias and Suarez, what a pleasure to see you!" Jonas came from a dark corner of the workshop as he bowed to them. "I see you two found the workshop. Good, good, come to see what we do with the wares Jatfast brought us? I'm so glad to see you're able to find your way around our lovely Undercity," Jonas said to them. Snowy looked at him with a miserable face."You know them?" Her eyes glared at him. Ofcourse she wanted to know. Jonas nodded, draping the scarf around his face again. "Suarez, mage. And Hurias, protégé to your lovely twin sister," he introduced them properly to her. Snowy gave Hurias the same nasty look Jeri could give him when she accused him of something he had no clue about.

"I see. That also means you're acquainted with that pig husband of hers? Shame," her face instantly turned dark when she added one and one together. She defiantly showed the same type of mood Jeri coped with. Going from happy to unhappy within a second. Cornering him in a very rude way."I never knew my sister kept a toy in Ratchet. Now I know why Jatfast always goes on his errands and writes those lame stories of his. Although I would have thought that was more Jewels terrain," she smiled at him. Hurias didn't smile back at her. He didn't like her sudden attitude, nor her blunt remark towards him, assuming he was some plaything. People were teasing him too often with things like that.

"**Miss**! You do not know me at all! Therefore you have no right to assume in such an insulting way that I am plainly somebody's toy!" His nostril flared when he looked angry. Suarez looked at him with a sudden smirk. The usually quiet and timid Hurias showed a whole new side of himself. "Your sister and I have a relation purely based on friendship and yes, we do occasionally work together when I help her out when she settles people's debts. I find it highly offensive you automatically assume I am anything else to Jeri then a toy!" Hurias said in a stern but polite voice. Jonas and Suarez chuckled. Snowy looked rather surprised that he told her off like that.

"Alright, alright, easy there handsome, I didn't mean to spring your wires like that," Snowy gave him another look. His expression didn't make him less handsome, she giggled for a moment."There is really no need to get angry with me, handsome, I'm sorry if I offended you," she apologized to him. His expression changed. Hers as well. She was as strange as Jeri could be to him sometimes. Angered one moment, purring at him the next.

"I was merely surprised that's all," she said, sticking out her hand to him. "Snowy's the name," she said, introducing herself properly when she took his hand. "Hurias," the elf said. "Well, welcome to our workshop, feel free to look around. Where is that lame husband of Jeri's anyway. I would have thought he would come whining about hurrying up the payment," she said in a rather ironic way. Both Suarez and Hurias gave her a puzzled look for a moment.

"He locked himself in his room," Suarez had to say. Snowy blinked at him for a second, then turned to Hurias again. "Is he now? Well, seems he lost his guts easy this time," she laughed sarcastically. "Well, he is a bit out of spirits," Hurias said it ever so politely, looking at Snowy. She winked at him with that satisfied smirk on her lips. She was enjoying this, he could tell from the way she relaxed her attitude, knowing this was another covered up way of saying he was pissing shit. "Well, since you're here, walk with me and talk to me handsome, I'll show you around the workshop if you like. Meanwhile you tell me all about that misery of his. I love hearing a good story," she laughed to herself, taking Hurias by the hand. Before he knew it she dragged him with her to the back of the workshop. They disappeared behind several piles of coffins before Suarez lost sight of them.

"Nice," the mage replied before Jonas could say anything. "She's always like that," the forsaken seemed amused for some reason."Exactly how long is it going to take before we can go home?" Suarez informed. "His payment will be ready tomorrow. You can tell Jatfast he is welcome to pick up his payment here, or if he does not wish to meet here that I can bring him his payment in the inn tomorrow later in the morning," Jonas mentioned. "After that you are welcome to travel home," Jonas said. "After that we're out of here?" that was good news. As well as a relief for Suarez when Jonas confirmed it for him a second time.

"So," Suarez said, trying to look what was behind several piles of coffins ahead of him. He could hear they were using a saw. And the sound of some other tools. Sounded like engineers to his ears. Which made it all the more interesting. "So, she leaves us standing here as if we do not exist and runs off with pretty boy," Suarez snickered for a moment. "They are twins," Jonas replied dryly. He saw Suarez stand on his toes and glare into the direction where Snowy and Hurias vanished in.

"Perhaps you would like a tour as well?" the forsaken suggested mildly. The mage didn't say no to that." I do hope you have a good stomach for what you are about to see, " the forsaken chuckled before beckoning the mage to follow him. Suarez waved it away. It was a quick tour. But gruesome enough. He saw multiple goblins and forsaken dressed in black leather aprons wearing surgical gloves were while going through piles of bodies to the left and to the right. There was a row of large crates in the middle of the room labeled with each spare part that was supposed to go in there. The crates labeled 'legs' and 'hands' was far larger than the crates that said 'eyes' or 'fingers' he saw when he took a peek. Flies were swarming the place so thick they were wearing masks in front of their mouths. Even though the room seemed unnatural cold. The workers rummaged through the bodies as if they were some fancy merchandise, checking everything. They used a saw to cut off limbs and a chisel and hammer to remove certain parts before laying them in the appropriate crate.

If Suarez was ever distasteful of the sight then he did not show it to Jonas who showed him around. But he was glad when he came out and Jonas had to head back to work. He stood waiting for a long time. There was no sight of Hurias. According to Jonas he would most likely be occupied with chatting to Snowy till late in the afternoon. It left him on his own, to wonder if he would take his spare time to visit the forge or take himself up on his original plan. Silvermoon was but an orb away.

* * *

><p>The underground room where she ordered her guards to place him was cold. Magically cold. If he had lived he probably held a constant craving after feeling the magic that was used. On the verge of giving in to the urgent need to feed on that same magic simply by draining the person that cast the spell. Just as he had done when she was working on her test ritual. For a second she wondered what it felt like to be going mad and to constantly be on the edge of that unsatisfied graving. To always be on the brink of needing to siphon stolen energy.<p>

She realized she never asked him because she didn't want to know. It had been of no value to her. Now she wondered if it was.

The fabric of her skirts rustled softly as she walked around him. He seemed so peaceful when she looked at him. With folded hands on his sunken chest, dressed in the appropriate robes that belonged to his status and class, the warlock. Like her.

Lilah Whitemorn knew her son had not been able to summon any of his demons for a long time ever since he started to change. She vaguely remembered it had something to do with side effects of the use of magic to call them. According to the house alchemist it asked too much effort and triggered more of Asathar's urge to feed on magic. It was at expense of his own health he withdrew himself from their help, simply because the side effects he had to cope with were worse than not calling his demons from the Twisted Nether. When did her house alchemist mention all this again?

Why had the forsaken never told her that before? In frustration she recalled he had, but it past her, like all the things she considered unimportant. Now it was too late.

She gently touched his hand. They felt colder then the stone he lay on. His hands seemed even whiter than when he was still alive. The tight skin around his face gave his skull a clear structure. His bones seemed to stick out through the cloth of his robes. She studied his hands. Claws they were, with sharp black nails. How could she not have seen this coming? Perhaps in hopes she still had time. When they found him on the Death Scar after he helped that pregnant wench escape from her imprisonment he tried to end it himself. But she would not allow him that satisfaction. He begged her for it. Instead she locked him away in the pit for days, refusing him to siphon any magic. By the time she let him out he changed drastically in appearance.

A distasteful look gloomed in her expression when she realized that time was the one thing he never had. Not after he was cursed with becoming a wretched. Lilah quickly let go of her son's hand. Shivering for a moment. She didn't like touching the dead. Perhaps she was afraid of becoming infected with what her son could not control. Maybe, with the proper guidance, she could have helped him. A thought that kept teasing her mind. Making the guilt more real to her then when Olpras died.

The pain was literally written on her face when she looked at her youngest son in repentance. Asathar looked more like Olphras than she wanted to admit.

Once his face was calm and intelligence, once he had the knowledge and integrity that Lohurin obviously missed. Asathar resembles his father's features like a mirror's imagine the way he lay there. She didn't recall feeling this way when Olphras died after he fell from the roof of the spire. They never proved anything against her after Olpras died. Especially not when she played the devoted widow, the mother that would do anything for her sons. He was never there for her. He did his duty by her when he gave her two children, two sons to care for. It was hard to raise them on her own. Even after her required time of mourning Olpras she never remarried. She would never let a man rule her life again.

How she wished she could rule his once more, to prevent him from the simple mistake of giving into that addiction. No tears gave expression to the feeling she truly held. The nagging blame she gave herself, that horrible guilt she buried deep down inside, stashed away in a far dark corner of her mind. Her hands automatically went through his hair. What was left of his long blond hair was neatly draped over his shoulders. He might not have been as handsome as his older brother, but in the end he had more to offer than Lohurin would ever. That too was a sudden realization she should not have neglected.

She had ignored so much of Asathar when he was younger. All because she found him a whining child that begged for her attention. In her eyes he became especially annoying because he was rebellious when he became older. Lohurin hardly changed, Asathar did. He would provoke her more. Test her. In response she continued to ignore most of his actions, leaving him on his own. When he became an adult his whole behavior changed. He became this handsome responsible young man that suddenly proved worthy of his mothers attention. He astonished her with his intelligence. She encouraged him when he shared her vision and showed how well he did with magic. He had an amazing latent for remembering her new spells.

It didn't last very long when he came back home after finishing his studies as a scribe. Even in the beginning when there were only subtle changes to his appearance. She could not accept he disappointed her yet again when she found out he could not control his magical addiction. It made him a lesser person in her eyes. With the subtle changes the stubbornness he shared with his father played up again. And Lilah ignored it again in hopes he would go back to being that young man that was following his mother's footsteps.

Hadn't she always been a good mother to him! He would never, ever have to endure what she had gone through when she was his age. None of her sons ever have to stand at the bottom of the hierarchy if she could help it. By marrying Olpras she automatically assured any offspring their heritage thanks to his family line. But also its historical heritage went through his bloodline to her sons. It was unfortunate for Olpras that he could not keep his hands off of all these other women. So resentful she had felt when enough was enough and he humiliated her for the last time. The spire accident instantly made her a widow.

That Asathar also had bits of his father in him and unfortunately did not only resemble his was a minor detail she liked to overlook.

After he changed all her attention automatically went to Lohurin when he received his title of Champion. Solely on him, because she made him her successor. Asathar could have been a good successor. Asathar had everything she wished Lohurin had. The wrong son took the wrong decision and became a wretched. A process that was said to be irreversible. But she could not let it rest. Not after she made that promise to him.

Maybe she should have listened more often to him...

The face of the wretched now only resembled the bitter memory of the person Asathar turned into in his final years. But she was not at fault here. It was all the fault of that wench. That young paladin that had convinced him to let her escape. She wondered what made him believe her and convinced him to help her. Thinking of the woman instantly made her angry. More when she reminded herself how shamelessly Lohurin had admitted he slept with the woman, even though he was married to Anayis. He had not even weathered when she scolded him for the rumors she heard. He merely confirmed her suspicion. To him it was a joke.

All she had been to him was a passionate night of fun where he did not have to listen to his wife's cries or see how afraid she really was of him. When he slept with other woman he would do whatever he wanted without having to worry he would be told off on it. She, like some others, had been a hunting game for him, he admitted. And that wench had become pregnant!

Not Anayis, but that wench!

Lohurin did not seem to care he fathered a bastard. For all he cared he fathered ten more, as long as those woman didn't bother him with it and more, didn't endanger his reputation. Nothing could his reputation as long as his mother took care of things. Yes, mother! She took care of all of them. Lilah the mother, Lilah the overseer, Lilah the one with the solutions. But that paladin formed a problem. This one was also responsible for speeding up Asathar's wretched process when she told him to hunt her down and bring her back to make aments for his mistake. It was part of his side of the deal she struck with him. She would save him and he would bring her the mother and the baby.

She shook her head pityingly when she thought about it. Her eldest son was a shameless person and her youngest a restless one.

It was all the fault of that miserable young infidel she decided! And she would dearly pay for that! That wench should have been thankful! Kissing the very ground Lilah Whitemorn walked on when she offered Riselle the possibility of having the baby in the Whitemorn summer mansion. After she had the baby she could return home as if nothing happened. But she didn't want that. the girl was stubborn!

Lilah Whitemorn even offered the parents of the girl to make arrangements for a wedding between her youngest son and their horrible eldest daughter. A match that would help her family go up in ranks again. After she would have been married in name to Asathar she would have stashed the wench away in the basement, allowing Lohurin to ride her once in a while if Anayis was troublesome again. It would have been perfect!

It would allow her to keep the wench under control if she was part of the Whitemorn family. Every other young mother would have been happy with those possibilities. But no, the wench had to be obnoxious. She wanted to keep the baby, raise it herself. Bastard or not! Even her own mother could not make sense of the girl when she spoke to her, as mother to mother. After that she locked Riselle up in the basement anyway after they caught her, chained to the wall to think about it. Giving her a day to think about a proper answer. Or she would take measures in her own hands.

The baby would have served as Asathar's new incarnation. It was closest to her own kin. He was perhaps a bastard, but he Whitemorn blood also rushed through his veins. Besides, what was one child's life if her youngest son could have lived?

For once she was thankful her eldest son had the same habit her husband held when he was still alive. They both could not take their hands of a woman. She always wondered what all these woman meant to Lohurin after he slept with them. Eventually they turned out nothing more than a cheap way to practice her rituals with.

Now the whole purpose of the merging ritual fell into naught. It left her with nothing. No son, no vessel. Of course it would not have been ideal for the baby or Asathar, but that was a minor detail. Placing a mature mind in a baby body was not exactly the best merging, but it could work. Using a mature body could have reject Asathar's mind. A baby was innocent. And the bastard boy was of her blood. Maybe if she had her way the babe could have grown into it a bit more. Then the child would have been older.

But now Asathar was dead, and she held Riselle responsible for his death. She decided her bastard grandson would be payment for losing her youngest son. Altered the reason why she wanted him in the first place. She still had use for him. Once they found the mother, she would lead them to the son. And if she had the bastard boy in her power she would raise him, knowing that the best way of hurting the wench was that he would grow up by her hand. The real mother would never see her son again. And the baby would grow up in Lilah's image. A son for a son. That sounded like sweet revenge. And if she had enough of the wench, she would use the young mother in a ritual. Most of her test subjects didn't survive the rituals, or her guards would put them out of their misery before they would bury them on the Death Scar. So convenient.

"I will avenge you Asathar," she promised softly. One thing eased her mind a little. She would never have to look at those eerie blue eyes again whenever she saw him lurking at her. With that in mind she left the room to get ready for her departure to Silvermoon. She had a council meeting to attend to.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Hangman

**_'Come and see our spectacle! Come all! Take your whole family to see the hangman show! Enjoy a tropical drink during the show. Relax after a hard day's work, combined with our culinary variety of goblin barbecue! Spent some time with your family and friends as the sun is setting and you watch the hangman dangle from its noose. For the diehards among us, a special place close to the gallows, to see the last moments of the people that hang! Come and see our execution!_**

**_Place: the gallows._**

**_Time: somewhere late in the afternoon (more information coming soon, announced by our city crier)_**

**_Admission: one gold piece for the true diehards among us, a silver piece for the mature (normal access) and twenty copper for the children._**

**_Fireworks after the execution! '_**

It read. Riselle blinked for a moment, re-reading the rather intrusive posters. They hung throughout the whole city. Hard to miss really. Riselle stared at the text again, finding it didn't fit. It was printed on all sizes of different paper, painted with garish colors. One poster showed a picture of the gallows with a dangling person attached on a noose during the sunset. Another poster showed a goblin executor seen with a bloody axe in one hand and a noose in the other. The satisfied grin on the drawn caricature gave Riselle the jitters when she looked at it.

They actually walked out to go to the market, because Greymur wanted new arrowheads. Jeri somehow came by at the same moment, crossing their path, inviting herself when she heard of the trip to the market.

Riselle did not really seem to mind when Greymur questioned her about it. More to his own relief.

"Are they even allowed to post this kind of propaganda?" Riselle looked slightly worried as she forced her eyes to blink at the bright colors, filtering them out. There were four pamphlets against the wall of the side of a restaurant close to each other. To Riselle a waste of paper. She read the text again. The advantage was that it was written in common, because Ratchet did not only house goblins, but also people from other races. The downside of being able to read a text was the sick way it was written in Riselles eyes. How could they make a display of a hanging!

Her eyes met Greymur's. The orc shrugged. He seemed not specifically happy with it either, but said nothing about it. Jeri however, was more than excited when they passed another poster.

"Oh good! A spectacle! We didn't have one of those in a long time! Fantastic!" Her voice always seemed to ring with enthusiasm whenever she was very exuberant. Jeri's purple painted lips formed a gruesome grin as she pointed to the pamphlet where the executor held the bloody axe in his hand.

"An execution with sunset, super chic. The last time someone was hanged was in mid-day and it was incredibly hot. The turnout was very meager. There was little honor or applause for the convicted person who hung that day," Jeri nodded with that special grin of her if she was up to something. Little honor she called it? Riselle stared at her for a moment. She looked very discreet at the elf, trying to point out the elf her mood about the upcoming event. Jeri found that Riselle looked very serious. It made her smirk.

"This surely is a jest, I mean; they cannot be serious about this?" Riselle pointed to the poster, especially to the text. The orc nodded, unfortunately they did that here. Jeri grinned deviously at the blood elf while she nodded. Riselle did not believe her ears

"But ... where is the discretion here? How can you make a spectacle out of somebody's death? How do you lay that out as something…normal, to the family of the person who will hang? This shows no respect if you put someone on display!" She clearly had trouble with the concept of the show where Jeri seemed to be ever so exited.

"Shi ... erhm ... sunshine, you've obviously never been to ay goblin execution before," Jeri pressed her lips together for a moment, before finally grinning. She almost did it again, calling Riselle a shiny shit.

"I do have experience with executions!" Riselle claimed. She paused when Jeri looked at her intently, curious. Riselles bit her lip. During her training as a paladin they had been obliged to watch as the Council of Silvermoon convicted somebody and eventually hung the person. Usually this was done in prison. Where only the family of the condemned were allowed to see. There was never much openness given to executions in Silvermoon.

Once the offender was hanged the body would be removed and buried with discretion in the presence of the ones that were dear to him or her. She never got used to it, not in all her years of training. But, her superior used to say, there may be a day that you are the only one eligible to perform an execution on the spot because of your rank. This way you will be prepared. She didn't believe it really helped. Out in the open fields of war it might, but not while you were still training in the academy.

"Of course I believe you have experience hun, but obviously not on goblin level!" Jeri's eyes shone. "Seriously, sunshine, this is a spectacle organized by goblins, this is a grand event. This you will never forget. This you cannot compare with anything you were ever taught in that academy of yours. Even you will like this," she grabbed the hand of the elf, pressing it encouraging. Riselle looked like she wasn't so sure about that.

"I don't want to go," she announced. Greymur simply shrugged again as he looked at Jeri. "I don't wish to participate in enjoying somebody's last moments. It just feels wrong," she said. Jeri muttered to herself.

"Aww come on shi ... sunshine, not so negative! First you need to witness the spectacle before you can judge it." The exuberant goblin woman still had a bit of trouble with accepting Riselle around, but she never mentioned that. Calling her shiny-shit in the presence of Greymur and the elf itself rolled of her tongue so incredibly well she easily forgot about behaving herself. The times she spontaneously called Riselle shiny-shit was done by accident, but Riselle seemed rather annoyed about it. And rightly so, Greymur said to Jeri's irritation. He still sided with her. And he took the same points at heart Jewels talked to Jeri about, to her even greater irritation.

So Jeri had turned shiny-shit into sunshine. It was pronounced less easy, but Riselle seemed to accept it. Although Jeri still felt Riselle was fault for a lot of problems that did not need to happen, Greymur was very explicit when he said she would be here as long as she needed to be. Nothing Jeri could change about that, as much as she loved to. He told Jeri Riselle would not be in this trouble if she hadn't targeted the blood elf woman for the game they used to play. But Jeri would not hear anything of that. Of course she would never seek the blame with herself, besides; it was so much easier pointing fingers at others. Jeri's part of the blame here wasn't important enough for her to actually memorize what part she played in it. She didn't bother about it anymore after that.

Greymur had made it very clear that if she could not act normal towards the elf, she could walk out the door the same way she came in if she started nagging about things again. For as long as the investigations weren't finished, Riselle remained his to guard. So Jeri had to accept it as it was.

Once she had discovered that Riselle had a very nice handwriting she combined the promise of getting to know the elf better and her work together, suddenly not minding that anymore. Even Jewels could be proud of her. With those thoughts she loved working together with the elf. Also working on a base of acceptance. Calling her sunshine instead of shiny-shit was part of that.

"This spectacle of yours, that's downright humiliating!" Riselle could not wrap her thoughts around the event. Greymur, Jeri and Riselle walked up to the beginning of the market, where garish merchants offered their wares and bid up the price against each other. If something cost five copper a moment ago, you could get twice for ten copper if you wished, depending on the vendor. The stalls were always a field of colorful display, as well as their owners. The beginning of the market was changed into the herbal front, probably because a fresh load of foreign herbs had just arrived from overseas. You could smell the bizarre combinations. But Greymur didn't want to visit the herb front today. He had other things to look at as Riselle and Jeri followed Greymur around.

"I do not agree with you!" Jeri grumbled, trying to win the argument. But Riselle did not want to hear her side of the story yet.

"Even if somebody earned to be hung, you do not let it become a public humiliation surely?" Riselle said again. Jeri shook her head. Her gaze was almost patronizing, combative. Greymur displayed a faint smirk on his face, as he occasionally looked over his shoulder to hear the bickering ladies rave about the event.

"You should not see it as demeaning, sunshine," he heard Jeri say. "See it more like a happy event ... the happy parting of your life gift with a large audience. Yes! What could be better than having a large audience and then die, right?" She nodded. Greymur had to hand her she was creative. He knew she thought of that on the spot. Still, Greymur could not suppress a chuckle.

"I think I see Gazlowe in a whole different light from now on," sputtered Riselle, still indignant.

"Now wait a minute sunshine! Gazlowe has nothing to say about this! This decision is not in his hands. This is a decision that gets made by a higher power, namely the trade princes. They have the final say in any execution. The only thing he can do is plead about it. It depends on what the situation calls for when the correspondence is started. Let's say that Gazlowe simply offers the residents and visitors of Ratchet something in the form of entertainment, therefore, death can even become a spectacle. There is a whole team of entertainment specialists that bends over these sort of events, Gazlowe didn't think of that himself of course, but he did appoint them, "Jeri said, as if it was something to be really excited about.

"I still cannot get my head around it," Riselle admitted. She shook her head. Greymur had the same when he was confronted with an event like this the first time. Spectacle or not, contradiction was in order for him here. If you hang somebody, at least made sure the condemned was hanged with honor. To chase somebody to death was something you did in war. You didn't exactly give a party with it. But for goblins things worked different.

"For the goblins is a combination of work and pleasure," Greymur suggested with a dark voice. Riselle looked at him, rather puzzled. "Your people live very long Riselle, your people have different values than the goblins have. Goblins on the other hand often live a short and explosive life. They try to get as much opportunities out of that life as they can. That's something you'll learn quickly enough if you live here for a while," he tried to explain as best as possible. Jeri just chuckled when she heard him talk. "Greymur, my burly friend, leave the explanation and thinking to the professionals," she told him. He gave her a semi amused look as he snickered. Ignoring Jeri's proud tone. Jeri patted herself on the chest, indicating the experience was her in general because she was a goblin, and gave Greymur a triumphant grin when she got involved into the conversation again.

"Look," she told Riselle. "If you want to understand the goblins, sunshine, then you should also see the world through our eyes. Your people have your weird things, we have ours. A little like what Greymur said. For us, the world is one large field of opportunity and deals. Something to earn money with. Also when it comes to death. We go beyond death if we can! For your people dying after living a long life might be satisfying, for us it isn't. So we deal in stuff, even if it is called death. You name it, I can make money out of anything if I think it's worth something," she said raising an eyebrow.

"Besides, in a climate like this you cannot bury too many people, it's too damned hot. And well, let's face it, the graves are sometimes made too shallow, well, that depends a bit on the workers of course and what you pay them. The point is, that you probably get gas if you put a dead person in a shallow grave. And bubbling ground. And odor, iew, don't forget the odor of cadavers. Gazlowe wanted to keep that problem as low as possible, you know presentation. So there was a solution. For goblins it's called business. Legal matters! "Jeri's finger poked Riselle in her shoulder as she continued her explanation.

"The reason why they make a spectacle out of this is simply because most goblins have a busy life, little time to relax. Ratchet is just the kind of city to provide entertainment. Believe me when I say that the entertainment team has a day's work to prepare things like this. These things don't make themselves you know. So often they need lots of preparation. So a lively event like this is something we call a spectacle. Combining business with pleasure. The persons who are suspended are not publicly humiliated, you should see it as a last chance ... to give a very big show on your last day. They go out with a blast!"Jeri made a wide gesture with her hands and grinned when Riselle was silent after she had finished . Greymur only grinned when she had explained exactly what he did a moment ago. Jeri simply told it with more detail and more exaggerated allure.

Riselles mouth was half open with astonishment. Greymur grinned at her.

"But who are they? Are they the people from the incident in the tavern? Or somebody else?" she didn't recall hearing anything new about people getting captured and put in prison so far. "I don't know sunshine, I don't know. Nobody does," Jeri shrugged. "It could be anyone. We never know in advance, "she said. Perhaps Riselle secretly hoped Jeri knew more. But the goblin woman didn't.

"Well, at least you aren't pointing out your reasons of not finding this acceptable anymore. Perhaps you wish to buy new clothes for the execution now we are here?" Jeri suggested cheerfully. She said it just a little too hard for Greymur's taste, just a little too enthusiast as she pointed out a rack of dresses they passed by. Riselle looked rather suspiciously at Jeri as the goblin woman pulled out a dark blue dress from the rack and showed it too Riselle. It was made of supple fabrics. Simple linen from the looks of it, died in a dark color blue. Jeri's eyes gleamed a little too much for Greymur before he realized what she was planning.

"You should see the booming business in the market whenever there is an execution, people seriously buy new clothes for that," she said joyfully as she looked around.

"Blue should be fine with that hair color of yours! Let's ask the advice of a genuine salesmen for this, shall we?"Jeri's voice rose to a harder level. And there it was, the first nose in the air. "Did I just hear somebody mention new clothes?" The small goblin female smiled as she walked up to Jeri and Riselle. She eyed them both as potential customers. "Do you wish to purchase new clothes for the execution? Then you have come to the right address sweetie! " It was as if Jeri had conjured some magic spell when she spoke of the execution. Suddenly there were four, no six vendors all over Riselle. They measured her sizes and made her turn around multiple times. All with this 'we serve you a good deal' kind of smile on their faces. Riselle around as Jeri took a few steps back, enjoying the view. The vendors gleaming silver and golden teeth shone a little too hard, as well as their fake colored jewelry.

"I hear it's good that this young lady maybe looking for new clothes for the upcoming execution! If she wears one of my dresses I will surely get more customers," one said to the other. The third didn't seem very happy.

"Miss, are you related to the convicted or do you just visit the event as a viewer? It all depends of course. If you are a visitor of the execution then I recommend having a look in my fine rack of summer dresses. Light fabric, yet elegant," another said to her. A fourth goblin woman with pink eye-shadow on her eyes came forward. Taking Riselle by the hand as she pushed her into the direction of her stall. Another tried to get her attention by jumping up and down near a rack with dark dresses.

"I have the best deals anywhere!" He screamed. "For summer dresses you should be with me, extra discount if you buy it a week before the execution takes place!" The man had a squeaky voice as he tried to over scream the woman with the pink eye-shadow.

Jeri laughed out loud when she saw what she accomplished. Riselle stood cornered, surrounded by multiple goblin vendors, and they all talked to her. Jeri seemingly enjoyed the scenery. Greymur did not. He stomped back to where Jeri stood and looked down on her with this serious look on his face. "Make them stop ... NOW!" Greymur growled at her.

"Ah? Just one more minute? She's enjoying herself isn't she," she even dared to say. The orc held up a threatening fist to Jeri, who sighed with a pout. She stuck her tongue at Greymur. "You're such a spoilsport," she muttered softly as she stepped forward.

"Enough with the whining about dresses! The young lady is with me and the orc, and she had NO MONEY! Yes you heard me, no money! "Jeri explained with that terrible spontaneous smirk of hers. At the no money the vendors disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

Riselle gave Jeri a dirty look. "You did that on purpose, didn't you," the young woman looked very angry. Jeri only shrugged her shoulders. "It was a joke, sunshine ... nothing personal!" With that she thought she apologized, thus grabbing the elf by the arm and dragging her to Greymur. There was this awkward silence between the two females. Perhaps for the better Greymur thought. Otherwise he would have to pull them apart if it ended in a cat fight.

The market seemed to be a maze if you didn't pay enough attention. But Greymur knew exactly where he wanted to go. When the smell of molten iron and fire from the forge reached his nose he knew he was there. This was the part where he wanted to look for arrowheads. Since Jeri had promised him a good bow, he would also need new arrows. He let his attention go over the wares in various stalls that offered arrowheads. His eye fell on the arrow points with two small hooks to the side. Mean narrow arrowheads they were, if you removed them they surely left damage and they were hard to pull out. His second choice was a regular arrowhead. A slender shaped narrow triangular point. He weighed the balance of the arrow head in his hand while he looked for arrow shafts.

Riselle looked with him. She saw arrowheads Rotharian could have made. Cast iron arrowheads that were cheap and created in a mold, arrowheads that were hand forged and showed slight differences. Large arrowheads, small arrowheads, medium arrowheads, all things that her brother could spend hours on. If he would ever come to Ratchet she would take him to the market here.

Her eyes scanned the stalls with armor, hoping for a glimpse of her jade plate equipment, but no vendor could tell her more about the set than what he already knew.

Greymur eventually chose the slender triangular arrowheads and light wooden shafts with white feathers. Jeri helped him haggle for it, something that she seemed very good at.

* * *

><p>In the semi dark room of Gazlowes office he spent his next undisturbed day. A small oil lamp was lit near the wall and a burning candle in a holder was placed on his desk to lighten the place. Now the sun finally went under it was only a matter of hours until he could not see anything anymore in the room. Besides the candle stood at least seven empty mugs with some dark goo kind of substance at the bottom. Zef wasn't allowed to enter and take them from his desk. Gazlowe only came out himself to refill a mug or to simply get a new one if he wanted coffee. He had been very explicit when he said he really did not wish to be bothered by anybody. Meanwhile he had been staring at the scroll he received in answer to his plea to the five trade princes on how to handle this.<p>

Soon it would be late in the evening and he could count the stars if he looked out his small window again. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. What a hassle this was.

A week ago he had finally received the long-awaited answer of the five trade princes. He had locked himself in his office to ponder about what they wrote. In those days Gazlowe had read the answer at least a hundred times if not more. By now the paper scroll was in poor shape and the wax seal was almost crumbled to small pieces.

Not that it even mattered. He could not do anything to change the verdict he received. He remembered how thoroughly he started the communication about the incident in the tavern, describing every step he had taken, every caution and every decision. He had them all described in detail. How the situation started up to the capture of the rogue and the hunter that tried to sell each other out if they could cut a deal. He tried to memorize how his plea about making a deal with both the hunter and the rogue was. He had been perplexed when he read their answer.

The judgment of the five trade princes told him to execute them by hanging. For complicity in murder. A conviction that could not be taken lightly, they wrote. Certainly not because it could bring endanger the goblin neutrality. If goblin neutrality was at risk it automatically became an urgent case for the five trade princes to decide over. They had unanimously decided that this was the answer to Gazlowes correspondence.

If both the hunter and the rogue had voluntarily admitted that they had let themselves be hired for a large amount of gold and thus put somebody's life in the city that lay on goblin neutral territory at risk, there was no talking it right. They were charged with considered an accessory to murder.

Gazlowe let out a long drawn sigh as he ticked his fingers on the wooden table that was his desk. It gave a very unpleasant feeling. Running a city didn't come easy. There was always a price, even if the trade princes let you run the place as loosely as they did with Gazlowe. They left him to make most of the choices his own, but this was a matter out of his hands.

If the corpse would have been found just outside the borders of Ratchet, then Gazlowe could do little about it. He was supposed to notify the trade princes and ensure that the protocols confirming murder near the borders were handled with care. Orgrimmar or Stormwind had to be informed. But it was always a bit difficult when certain factions within the Horde or Alliance had casualties near neutral grounds. Gazlowe was never sure whether there would be anything done about it. Sometimes a murder victim was claimed by its people, they would take the trouble out of Gazlowes hands. But more often a murdered person ended up in a nameless grave in Ratchet, leaving him to clean up the mess.

When danger threatened goblin neutrality, it was no longer a matter for him to deal with, but was instantly transferred to the trade princes. And Gazlowe could not alter the sentence imposed upon him by letter. These were orders. And he knew very well that he could not go up against the five trade princes. Not unless he wanted to live. Or only when he did the same as the trade princes had, use their network of intrigue, blackmail, kill if needed or make deals to get what they wanted. It was all about the support they bribed Gazlowe knew. He never really had the ambition to become a trade prince himself. He was quite happy where he was.

But receiving an answer like this almost made him feel the pain in his heart that he had to inform Asalt there would be no deal for the hunter and the rogue. He knew Asalt was good at handling this and making it sound as realistic as possible. He had no other options in this.

He remembered the hunter had asked for a specific deal, he wanted the promise they would not hang him. And that Ratchet would not extradite him to Stormwind. Perhaps he would have been better off that way. Asalt had notified them of the long awaited charges. The rogue had gone berserk. They had to restrain him when he was told he was sentenced to death. The hunter took it with solemn dignity. Perhaps the man still hoped for a miracle. Even so, Gazlowe could not give them any. Although he harbored little love for the Alliance, he did not repelled them out of his city. Perhaps the pain was because the rogue was a goblin, it hurt his pride a little more. He didn't know.

With a sigh he stood up and stretched his limbs. It would all pass.

* * *

><p>That evening it was announced by the town crier, that the execution would take place late in the afternoon. A goblin gentleman dressed in bizarre colored outfit announced it through a speech horn. Jeri told Greymur and Riselle that the town crier was somebody appointed to the entertainment team that was responsible for the upcoming event.<p>

Jeri tried to persuade both the orc and the elf to come with her. That Riselle had to see this grand event. She could not go if she resided in Ratchet if she truly wished to understand goblins. Riselle was not really keen on going. Greymur decided he did not want a discussion with the two of them and he would side with Riselle. If she wanted to stay indoors, so would he.

"Oh come on shiny-shit! You call yourself a paladin? Act like one of those shining knight if that is who you truly are!" Jeri dared Riselle. Riselle snorted, clearly offended she was taken in doubt.

Even though she was not an active paladin at the moment without aces to her holy light she was still a paladin in her heart. "You don't have to become mean Jeri," Riselle finally said.

"Yeah? If you want to see mean, I'll get mean. I just want to show you this," she said again. Greymur wondered about her motive. Usually she would use opportunities like this to parade Hurias around, now she did not have Hurias she felt a little lost without having somebody to prance around. Riselle seemed the most likely choice for that, but proved to be a little more difficult than Hurias. This made the orc snicker. After two hours of hearing Jeri's whining and reasons even Riselle gave up to Greymur's amusement. Jeri beamed that she finally managed to persuade the elf.

"You do not have to look when they hang them. You can look pretty standing next to me. There are snacks and drinks! And real goblin barbecue! You have to taste real goblin barbeque," she was very enthusiastic, almost bouncing up and down.

"Look pretty?" Riselle repeated. Jeri nodded. "Of course, we'll be a blast, the talk in town if I show you off. Does it help if I say that Hurias usually takes less time to break? He is never keen on going either, but I always make him, or I'm standing there on my own looking lame. But you're a good replacement, even though you're female, "she heard Jeri say. And there they were, the true reasons why Jeri wanted Riselle to come along.

"I cannot be seen without my elf. You'll fill in for pretty boy! You're doing me a favor sunshine …means I owe you one!" Riselle shook her head again, whatever did she get herself into. The elf woman sighed annoyed when Jeri finally handed her a paper bag with a specific smirk.

"What? Is owing a favor from Jeri not good enough? Tell her Greymur, she can get a lot done with my favors if she were to hand them in. Or trade them with somebody else," Jeri said, making it sound businesslike. Riselle snorted. She didn't understand the trade system Jeri referred to.

"So you know I'm not holding any crutches," she said, as she pointed at the paper bag. "What is this?" Riselle stared at the paper bag in a curious way.

"Call it a present, because I maybe liked working together. Or maybe it's because I pulled a prank on you at the market. I've not decided exactly what it's for yet. You know, you 're not so bad now I get to know you better. I know how hard it is to get along without money in a strange place. You know what, consider this a deposit for your help in settling my clients with their debt," she said with that bizarre enthusiasm of her. Riselle accepted it without daring to refuse it. To Greymur it all seemed funny, Jeri trying to get in good spirits with Riselle.

When Riselle opened the bag she took out the same dark blue summer dress Jeri joked her with.

Greymur glanced up from his arrows on the kitchen table when Jeri was as quiet as she could possibly be when Riselle looked sharp at the dress. He frowned amused. Jeri tacitly put her middle finger up at him when he looked at her with a big grin.

Riselle eyed the dark blue dress. It was made of a light fabric, a combination of linen and something else. A flowing kind of fabric. Finished with a simple pattern of curls that touched each other on the bottom and sleeves. The cut was probably universal, because the bodice of the dress had a drawstring to pull it together to fit the wearer. Jeri grinned.

"Would be a waste not to wear that. I bet you look stunning in that," the seductive way she always tried to manipulate Hurias with didn't quite work on Riselle. So she tried to compliment her instead. But they began to be noticed in quite handy Greymur already when he saw doubt. Riselle

"You cannot change the fact you would look good in that, sunshine. Perhaps you can help these poor convicted men to look at you when they are hanged, it would surely give them a nice memory and preferably something else if they look at you before going out like that, "Jeri laughed heartily at her own joke. Riselle gave her a curious look. The last part didn't exactly amuse her.

"Sorry, my mouth speaks for me with Jatfast away this long," she admitted, apologized in a sincere way. "Forget what I said, sunshine, just picture that man who will die a lonely death, until he sees you in the crowd, wearing the heavenly dark blue dress and that gorgeous hair loose, he might think of you when they tie that noose around his neck, there better? Green messengers aren't often compared with spirit healers," Jeri said. Riselle smiled for a moment when she tried to picture that in her mind. She looked hopeful at Riselle.

"Fine," said Riselle, as she got up and walked towards the stairs to change clothes in the room upstairs. Jeri looked even more triumphantly at Greymur, as if she had won something wonderful. The orc hunter shook his head only with that same grin on his face.

"She's not like Hurias, and she is not yours but mine to guard, keep that in mind," he said only when she looked at him disapprovingly.

She looked stunning in that dress when she came down those stairs. The simple cut of the dress was what it made pretty on Riselle. Elegance the way it fell around her features. Jeri openly admitted that she wanted to baptize Riselle to pretty girl instead of sunshine. Riselle almost smiled at that.

Greymur had to take another look at her, nodding approvingly when he saw her in that dress. She looked very attractive in that dress, somehow he was happy Hurias wasn't here. He would have to pull the boy together and slap him in the face if he would see Riselle like that.

Jeri had a good eye for detail for herself, but she seemed to have a good eye for Riselle as well. She aimed well with the dress she bought.

"Wow," was her reply. "If Jewels would see you like this she would try and talk you into joining her business," Jeri said. Riselle did not know if that was a very good compliment, knowing Jewels was a Madame in the Pink Stocking . She simply bowed her head graciously.

"So I get to parade a pretty elf around after all." Jeri grinned satisfied with the result. "What if I say no, because I've decided not to go? What will you do then Jeri? Riselle is dependant of me in this case, she cannot go without my permission," Greymur's teasing look gave Jeri a thoughtful look suddenly.

"Damned Greymur! Why won't you me do all the arrangements? I would not be in this trouble if she was not under house-arrest!"He laughed out loud. Not going in on the subject. Jeri was silent on that as well. For the first time they both heard him laugh out loud again. He laughed so hard he was shaking as he whipped a tear from his left eye. Jeri bit her black painted lips, half amused that he thought it was funny. Rena had been quiet until now, but barked at the sound of Greymur's spontaneous roaring laugh.

"I believe that is three women against one orc," said Jeri, letting her hand rest on Rena's large wolf head. The wolf looked at him, tilting her head a bit. "You're terrible, all of you," he agreed, as he looked at them all, finally getting up.

The show was truly a spectacle. Greymur paid three pieces of silver to one of the Bruisers standing guard outside the fenced-off area around the gallows.

It was almost noon when they walked that way. Everywhere you looked there were stalls with exotic drinks. Served in half cut coconuts or pineapples. With a colorful umbrella. In addition to any drinks stall was a goblin with a barbecue selling food. Between that street musicians played all different kinds of music, from basic drums to more sophisticated music. It almost felt like the night Riselle had been going to the market with Hurias. This looked nothing like an execution, more like a cheerful bazaar.

Rena stuck her nose in the air, whimpering softly. Greymur ignored the attention she sought from him by pushed her wet nose into the palm of his hand more than once. Riselle felt a little awkward in the huge crowd, she remained a close to Greymur as she could. Perhaps she was also reminded of the night that Asathar popped up again, chasing Hurias off with a spell and hitting her over the head with the end of his staff. She hoped nothing would happen with so many gathered.

The crowd consisted of people from all factions. Horde and Alliance walked together here, just at the market. An advantage of goblin neutrality.

Greymur noticed her reluctance. She had always been a bit wary of everything possible that could still happen after Asathar got away. But so far nothing had happened. There were no reports or any evidence from Asalt that indicated that Asathar or his family was planning something. No stories involving a mysterious young man that asked questions about Ratchet. So far no possible threats. So Greymur got the idea that maybe this was a calm moment before a certain storm. He had the feeling for a while. Something Riselle shared with him.

"I see Zanak," Riselle suddenly said when she discovered him in a large group that seemed to huddle around a certain stall. He wriggled himself out of the large group literally when he saw them. He waved so enthusiastically to the foursome that he could hardly go unnoticed. He ran towards them with his small legs, clearly out of breath when he arrived.

"Miss Riselle, Greymur! How nice to see you! Are you also here to watch the execution?"He said, still trying regain his breath. He finally managed to give Jeri a short nod tried to feed Rena a piece of meat with hopes of Greymur watching the other way. Greymur pretended he had not seen that when Rena stood next to him waggling her tale as she was chewing and drooling.

"Have you seen my new invention miss Riselle? I have done it this time! I made a barbecue bot! He's doing great work, did you see how busy my stall is?" The announcement of the new invention came somewhat unexpected.

"Will you perhaps try some? I'm doing good business! But I had to come over and say hello in person when I saw you coming. Easy sight with Greymur standing out in the crowd like that," he said with a sly grin. The orc grinned once, knowing very well he was not the average green skinned orc but a darker tan of grey instead. "Food is free for friends," he offered. Greymur thanked him in his friendliest way, as well as Riselle.

"If you will excuse me for a moment, I must return to my stall," Zanak did not seem disappointed they refused the offer of food, of course Greymur was against it. At least he did not show how what he was thinking right now, to Zanak's relief. When Zanak left them again they saw him dive into the crowd to squeeze himself back in.

"Maybe we could stand up front," Jeri suddenly said. Greymur wondered why she wanted to see it so closely. "Asalt arranged the security does he not? Maybe he can squint an eye and secretly let us through?" She looked at Greymur. The orc grunted something unintelligent as he shrugged. HE was not going to arrange any favors for her when Riselle instantly shook her head. "I do not have any desire to stand front row," she announced. Jeri played a pathetic expression. "Let her be Jeri! If she does not want it she does not want it. We can see enough if I can get us closer into the crowd, that should be good enough," Greymur warned her. Jeri muttered to herself as she pulled the corners of her mouth down. With Hurias it would have worked, with Riselle it didn't. It had little effect on Greymur either, he just ignored her.

Greymur managed to get them close to the fenced area for the diehards. It gave them a pretty good view of the gallows. Perhaps he was not that tall for an orc, being muscular helped. It instinctively made people step aside for him. Something Jeri gratefully used as she parked herself in a good spot in front of Riselle and Greymur. Riselle looked around, most of the crowd in the diehard section were goblins. From this spot they could see anything that went on at the scaffolding.

A goblin climbed on, he was followed by a second goblin with a strange horn like device on a wire in his hand. They were given a four legged standard which he attached the strange looking horn to.

While the other goblin adjusted the standard to his size he gave a test cough through the horn to see if it worked. There was a lot of echo coughing coming from the device before an actual announcement was given. Everyone slowly became quiet when the cough persisted.

"Thanks for the silence," the sound was a bit sketchy, he turned on what looked like a small knob to the side of the horn, causing it to make creaking sounds before he touched another button that made his voice sound clear. There was laughter in the audience for this.

"Welcome ladies, gentlemen and children! Today we have not one, but two executions. How spectacular is that?" he was answered with a small applause by a part of the crowd to Riselles surprise. "I present to you: Two men that were convicted of complicity of murder. Our five trade princes have unanimously decided that they will dangle from our beautiful gallows!" The speaker pointed behind him, which again brought forth laughter from the crowd.

"They will still have the opportunity to show they regret anything they have done, trying to draw you in. Our beloved audience, before they will hang from a noose, "chuckled the voice of the speaker.

Riselle looked very serious. Jeri gleamed. Greymur looked neutral.

Asalt appeared on stage suddenly, after some talking he was allowed to take the place of the speaker. His gaze went toward Greymur and Riselle before he spoke into the horn. "Good evening everyone," sounded through the horn. "My name is Asalt, I'm head of the Bruisers in our beautiful Ratchet. Unfortunately, my voice does not carry far enough and my Bruisers are too occupied to do extra work, so I was allowed to make an announcement to one of my employees," he said, grinning through the horn. "I would like to have the grey orc and his lovely companion to come up to the diehard section, mostly because the grey orc is blocking the view with his big head for the back rows." The crowd thought it hilarious when somebody next to Greymur called out Asalt was talking about him. Greymur wasn't very happy when he heard that statement. More laughter came, but they also opened up to let him and Riselle through. Jeri went with them, hoping her chances would give her a better view. He did not find it funny at all. Asalt beckoned them to come over again after he gave the speaker room behind the horn again.

"Ooh, this will be good!" Jeri looked at Greymur while they walked with him to another set of Bruisers guarding the fence near the diehard area. Asalt made a gesture to let them pass.

The deposited area for the diehards was not large, but it was completely packed. Jeri casted a hopeful look at the entrance, Asalt another gesture with his hand to allow her into the diehard section. Riselle and Greymur were escorted to the side through another fenced area.

Jeri blew him a kiss hand before she vanished in the packed crowd. Watching an execution up close was always nice. The orc and elf finally met with Asalt.

"Well, finally. You had already left before they could get," he said to you Greymur. The orc did not ask why he was needed. "I was in need of your presence, in case you were wondering why I had you come over. In case you were wondering," He said, chewing on his gum. Asalt smirked mysteriously when Riselle looked at him. He chuckled as his jaws mauled away on the apple flavored gum.

"I was not sure you two were coming, so I had somebody to pick you up. Better that I have you in my sight than to search after this execution," he said thoughtfully. Greymur looked sullen. "After the show we have to discuss something. You, me, Riselle and Gazlowe," he looked at Riselle intently.

"Make way for our first candidate to be play hangman," was announced there. "He is a man of few words, a shadow in both the day and the night, dangerous with his knives. Known for his many minor criminal offenses and turbulent nights sitting in Hazer's prison ... here is the Zam the Zapper!"The speaker said cheerfully. There was a round of applause from the crowd.

"Back away, dead man walking," was said by one of the Bruisers when they passed Asalt, Greymur and Riselle. The guy who passed them was guarded by two bruisers, his hands tied behind his back. A sack over his head. Riselle was a bit queasy that she was so close to the gallows now.

The Bruiser removed the sack from the head when they climbed onto the scaffolding. Riselle could see it was a goblin that looked at the crowd now. She recognized him immediately. With wide eyes she stared at the rogue who had attacked her in the bathroom during the incident. He did not see her.

"Do you wish to leave?" Greymur stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder as she looked at the scaffold. She shook her head. Asalt grinned encouragingly at her. "You can put your fingers in your ears and look the other way when they open the shutter. We won't hold it against you," he said with a bit of a sarcastic undertone. She closed her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath. Greymur watched her, to be sure she would not feint suddenly.

"Zam, do you still have a plea to the public why they do not have to hang you?" The speaker asked. The goblin rogue grinned. "I am innocent, our trade princes make a fool out of this case, and they got the wrong person!" He cried out. There were people hissing at him as he was booed by the crowd.

"Let's wait no further, here is our very own head jailor and tonight's executioner…. HAZER!" Loud boo and hiss sounds were made when Hazer came climbed up the scaffold, waving at the crowd. He even took a bow. He wore a black leather outfit. For a change he looked alright in it. He didn't even seem drunk. "One last wish?" Hazer asked Zam. "Give me an ale!" Shouted Zam. There was cheering when he said that. Somebody brought a large tankard of ale. Zam emptied the large tankard in one go. A dwarf would have been proud of that effort.

Hazer then pulled the sack back over Zam's head. Zam, half drunk, lamented on about how they tricked him and that he was innocent. Hazer ignored his half drunken pleas to be released while he pulled the noose over Zam's head. Hazer checked the noose again as well as the ropes that tied Zam's hands behind his back. The man had nowhere to go. Hazer gave it a thumbs up to the crowd. There was an eerie silence, when suddenly a thunderous applause rolled through the audience. When Hazer hit the handle that opened the trap door beneath Zam's feet.

Zam swung in mid air, gasping for air with an overwhelming gargle. The noose around his neck tightened as he kicked his legs around to find somewhere to stand on. He kept gurgling and suffocating from the noose that tightened around his neck more. It took five long minutes before he finally stopped gargling. For a moment his limbs gave a spastic aftershock when he finally stopped moving and just hung there. His body swung back and forth before there was another applause.

Riselle stood with a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her trembling lips. The fact they were caught did not make it less easy now she finally knew their names. If justice was right they disserved to die by hanging. Greymur's face had turned into a grimace by now. Although he silently though her braver than she thought herself for standing here as she kept looking at the spectacle.

"That was the Zam Zapper!" The speaker said through his horn again. "Make way for our second candidate for the noose. He was once a great hunter in his class, before trailing of the right track. He worked with many petty criminals and now he will hunt in the eternal afterlife. Give a round of applause for Jerg Bergen," the speaker made it sound like a real show.

Asalt Riselle pushed a step back when two new Bruisers came along with the next condemned. He also wore a sack over his head. When they let him climb on the scaffolding Hazer pulled of the sack with a loud cheer from the crowd.

Riselle recognized him from the incident at the tavern as well. She tried to remember if he was the one that knocked her out eventually. Her hands trembled furiously as she looked up at the man who stood so quietly on the scaffold. He was a middle-aged man. His skin tanned by the sun. His whole appearance was clear and calm.

"A final plea to the public why we would not hang you, Jerg Bergen?" Asked the speaker of him. Jerg Bergen looked very calm at the audience. His gaze sometimes stopped in the crowd. Maybe a friend or family, a relative . Nobody knew for sure. Eventually he turned his head to the side, in the direction he had come from. His eyes rested on the young woman beside the orc. He saw the description that the elf had once given him, small slender woman, long dark hair. He smiled as he linked her to that same description.

"You were the one he was looking for, wasn't he? Now I see," he said, clearly meant for her to hear that. His lips formed more words. Almost inaudible for the audience to hear, but she stood close enough, her hearing sensitive enough to have the words reach her ears. For Riselle every word he said was added to that feeling of guilt she felt. Cutting deeper. He talked about the young woman they were asked to find. Accidentally mixing up the description. Finding the human woman instead of the elf. He said how he felt sorry for both of them. That if he had known up front, he would have declined all that gold he was offered to set his mistake right. If he had known this would happen he would have walked away from the chaos. He would have let the elf be. Never would he have gotten involved in this chaos that eventually dragged him to his death.

It all sounded like a beautiful declaration of love to those who could hear him. To Riselle is was chilling. Jerg Bergen said many more beautiful things with words, the man should have been a poet, not a thief Asalt said. But Riselle only heard half of the other things he said. He ended with resentment. And how he hoped he would be forgiven in the afterlife.

Her hands were shaking so hard that she had to struggle to pull herself together.

Dramatically the sky changed from a bright color into a soft pink and yellow, as the sun was setting. Although it would take long before it would really get dark it took long enough to set. The ooh's and aaah's were all that were left to Jerg Bergen. It was almost beautiful.

"How heartwarming ladies and gentlemen, Jerg dedicated his last words to the woman that all started this for him." They heard the speaker say. He had no idea how close he was with that assumption. "You do not need to look, we can leave now if you want," Greymur said again. Riselle finally seemed to have her shaking hands under control when she looked at him over her shoulder, she mastered a strange sense of calmness suddenly. Her eyes looking passed Greymur, as if she did not see him. Something he had not seen in her before. She shook her head slightly. "Oh, spicy lady," he heard Asalt say when he noticed it too. The calmness was almost ice-like.

"I will look, out of respect ... we had to do that during our training. I might be the only one in rank to perform an execution like this, one day," she sounded bitter when she repeated the words of her trainer.

"One last wish?" Hazer's voice rang out over the audience that applauded the human hunter as if he was on stage after that statement. "To go with my eyes open to the world. I have a lot of regret, but I will face my death with open eyes," Jerg said, his eyes still focused on Riselle. Hazer nodded, explaining to the audience Jerg Bergen chose to hang without the sack over his head. He pulled the noose over Jergs's head with a sinister grin on his face. The man said nothing. He did not scream, he never gasped for breath when Hazer pulled the noose tighter around his neck. Jerg Bergen did not make a strange sound when Hazer hit the lever that opened the trapdoor. Jerg simply leaped before he felt the ground underneath his feet fall away. The hard pull of the rope made sure he broke his neck in the process. He never suffered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this gentleman knew how this was supposed to be done, or he was terribly lucky. A round of applause for Jerg Bergen that he may be forgiven in the afterlife" ended the speaker solemnly. The audience clapped like idiots now. Such a beautiful execution, so much dignity.

To Riselle it all passed like a dream. The calmness she held was good. But Greymur seemed worried when she gazed upon the crowd as if she was not there.

"And now, ladies, gentlemen, children the moment we have been waiting for ... FIREWORKS!" The speaker announced.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 : A taste of your own mood**

Jatfast had been nothing but a drama queen ever since Hurias agreed to help him. Absolutely nothing of what he so solemnly promised to Greymur happened, not to Hurias his great surprise really.

If Suarez had not been there, he would have packed his belongings and would have arranged himself some form of transportation back to Ratchet. With or without money. But he would have been gone. Normally Jatfast wasn't such a huge problem for him. Especially not when the man was in dire need of a friend. But the fact that Jatfast acted more like a diva then Jeri bothered Hurias greatly. He pulled the elf from drama into drama. However, it was not his intention to let himself go like he did….but he was so angry with Jatfast right now.

The elf thought Jatfast would have been happy hearing the news Jonas came by to give him his payment. He should have been satisfied they could return home. He really thought it would cheer the rogue up if he would tell him they could leave Undercity behind them. Instead Jatfast began to nag at him, for having no idea how much stress maintaining a wife like Jeri could give. But, he said, you would not know that since you even shy away when somebody blinks at your poor appearance! That made him angry. Jatfast continued nagging about the fact he should have left Hurias at home to ease Jeri for when he came back. In his opinion Hurias was worth no more than the average pet.

That this same young man did help him push his precious cargo and was there when he needed a friendly face wasn't mentioned.

When Jatfast opened his mouth most that came out build up that anger with Hurias. That last comparison, the one where Jatfast literary said Rena was worth ten of Hurias…that moment was when it went wrong. First there was this icy awkward silence. The greenish eyes of the eleven suddenly radiated with pride. For a moment he did not look at the rogue, but looked down on the rogue. He never looked down at others, but he was really angry.

The huge explosion of anger that came from the normally quiet and rather sensitive elf was amazing. It caused everybody who could hear to be silent. That Hurias even knew an arsenal of abusive words and dared to use them was incredible for Jatfast. Even Greymur would have been quite overwhelmed. As well as all the participants that could understand when the elf railed about trust and childish behaviour which Jatfast had shown. "You crap your own pants if you even hear the name Snowy!" Jatfasts eyes were completely open now, his teeth pressed together as he gritted them.

When it was going to escalate, Suarez decided he had to interfere. Not that his intervention helped the cause. Not when he chose sides with the elf. Suarez backed Hurias up for Jatfasts neglect, finding he had been more than a little unfair to the elf. To ease them both a little he decided it was best to separate them as he pushed the elf downstairs to cool off. Instead of letting it rest Jatfast followed them down, cursing and accusing them of conspiring against him. They were no longer his friends, he shouted in all his anger. They were worse than Jeri and Snowy together!

Fine, Suarez had said while he had turned toward Jatfast and looked at him with a look that was imminent. Suarez shook his head, decided there and then that enough was enough and figured the only way to settle this was to take leave instead of waiting until reason would finally kick in with Jatfast. Reason would not kick in with his stubborn attitude. Instead he said:" I should have done this on the day we walked through that portal and you started bickering!"

With that he opened a portal quite abruptly in the middle of the tavern. The shimmering magical mass that formed the portal was showing vague rippling contours of very familiar buildings in Ratchet. You could almost feel the sun. Without any further warning Suarez pushed a rather surprised Hurias through the portal. He closed it before anybody else could come after them. Leaving Jatfast behind…

Suarez's rather abrupt decision ended with an overwhelming silence that spread throughout the tavern while everybody looked at Jatfast. He did nothing. The rogue just let himself fall backwards on the nearest chair and stared at the spot where moments the portal was. His eyes widened, his face stunned... they really left him...

"Quickly!" Jonas called out to the nearest goblin worker: "Bring me the bag with money! Let him smell the gold before he truly goes into shock!" But it was already too late. All Jatfast did when he was offered the smell of gold was wrap his arms around the large backpack filled with coins as he stared out into nothing. There were no words coming from him, nothing.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean he's broken? What did he do? Trip over that bloody sack of gold of his and break his legs? Be more specific!" Snowy sounded more than a little irritated when she was disturbed suddenly by one of the employees of the workshop. The goblin foreman only agreed to this because Jonas had sent him to tell her. That he did, he told her there was something wrong with Jatfast, nothing more. He thought he could simply turn around and go back to work. But Snowy did not allow him when she grabbed him by his arm firmly.<p>

The fact that this was about Jatfast should not have concerned her. It should concern Jonas!

She muttered when the man looked at her with a puzzled look on his face. He did not seem very impressed with the bad forebode of her mood, unlike her husband, who would have made sure he was gone when she exploded. "Well, it is exactly as I said Miss Snowy," said the goblin with an exaggerated grin while Snowy looked even angrier. "He no longer moves and he does not respond to anything. He just sits and stared ma'am," said the goblin foreman and shrugged. Snowy eventually put her parchment and quill down in an angry gesture and looked at the man with a long drown sigh.

"Typically a Jatfast action, this is just screaming for attention. Well, go on, lead the way. Let's see it then," she muttered aloud again. The day Jatfast would get off the hook in an easy way was yet to come. The corners of Snowy's mouth pulled down at the mere thought that she was agreeing to see the only person she wished to be rid of as soon as possible. It was so much more fun when they could still call each other friends and got along like they used to. That incident where she caught him with his pants down in the bushes while she was arranging Miss Jade's photo-shoot still weighed heavily on the way she acted towards him till this day. She still held a grudge towards him for not saying she was right.

The irritation of this all caused the muscles near her nose to wrinkled and make her look even more displeased. That and the combination of her frown didn't exactly make her a very attractive.

The inn of Brill seemed busy, although the vast majority of the attendees came from her very own workshop and consisted of goblins. She was not very happy when she saw everyone standing there. Time was money! If there was no work done, it also meant they would lose profit every minute they wasted. If they were here for the scene they better make themselves ready to receive a huge scolding from here when she was done dealing with Jatfast. Surprisingly she did not start with that. Instead she kept her mouth when she came in.

The large group opened a path that allowed her to follow the foreman when she was spotted. Smear brought her to the table where he made a mocking gesture as he pointed at Jatfast. "Behold, he's been like that all morning," said the man with his exaggerated grin.

Snowy snorted loudly when she looked at his empty staring eyes. "Nothing he doesn't usually have," she said. But it was not only the empty stare. The look on his face seemed petrified in mix of bewilderment and disbelief. His posture stiff, almost painful the way he sat there. His arms wrapped the bag with money while he stared out into the empty space.

"I see he still has his gold, so that cannot be the problem," she remarked when she looked better. There was a coughing sounds from the rear portion of the group. One snickered loudly when he said: "What do you think boss? Is it a typical case of….gold shock?" There was laughter coming from the group now."Would he move spontaneously if we would try to take that coin filled backpack from him?" somebody asked in a greedy way. "We could divide it among the group," somebody else suggested. The chuckles sounded divided and cautious. That was because Snowy now turned her gaze to the group behind her.

"STOP THAT!" she said in a clear voice. "We do not steal honestly earned money if that jeopardizes the cooperation with the other party. Am I clear? He may be an idiot, but he does a good job. If I notice one golden coin missing from that bag I know where to find each and every one of you!" The painted nail on her finger pointed at all of them, warning them. Her sharp remark caused a silent group.

"Now move aside! I need space!" Her grumbling was taken very seriously. They wisely moved away from the table while Snowy took the chair opposite Jatfast and moved it back with a loud scraping sound before she sat down in it. Her presence should have already triggered some response, which it didn't. Which she found was very strange for Jatfast. "Hey, potbellied pig!" Snowy looked at him. The provocative tone in which she talked to him as she sat down on the chair and leaned her elbows on the table gave her a cocky attitude. There was no response from his side. Jonas looked at all this in a very amused way.

"Hey, perverted idiot, I'm talking to you!" Snowy knocked with her knuckles on the wooden table to attract his attention. She sniffed once in a very disgusting noisy way. Nothing happened. "Are you seriously ignoring me? Very unwise choice!" Snowy leaned over, pulling his ear as her face showed a very irritated expression. She slapped him on the back of his head that caused his head to loll back and forwards. She sat herself back in her chair again, waiting. She lurked at him, her eyes fixed on any movement. Normally he would have tried to hide as she stared at him so intensely. He would have broken the conversation long ago. Jatfast was wise enough to avoid most contact with his wives twin. She usually used it against him, mocking him. Again no response. He was still staring ahead, his face a pale green colour. She had not seen him blink his eyes once.

She snapped her fingers once, first from a distance, then right under his nose. He did not respond."I think he really is in shock," Jonas said dryly as he watched them. Snowy gave him a sullen look. "Do not speak nonsense Jonas! Let me handle this already," she said in a tone as if Jonas did not know what he was talking about. The forsaken let out a dark chuckle and shrugged. Whatever she wanted.

"Hey, miserable idiot. You know, I was planning to confront Jeri again. About that time I caught you with your pants down," the grin playing on her lips was a little false. This had to give an overwhelming response from his side. There was only silence in return. That and the only small change she noticed was that he seemed to grow even paler in colour than he already was. The blank look in his eyes seemed to stare through everything.

"Gold shock my ass! Has anyone even bothered to check his pulse?" She looked even angrier at Jonas. The forsaken grinned again. "It makes little sense to ask if I want to check for a pulse when I do not have any feelings in the fingers of my hand," he simplified if for her. She looked as if she would overload at any moment now. A perfect copy of Jeri according to Jonas.

"Damn Jonas! You could have let me come sooner! If he continues this way we may soon permanently take him to the workshop and chop him up for spare parts! Do you want that?" She tried to have him take the blame. Knowing Jonas well enough he was probably smirking behind his scarf at her. "He would make a very poor forsaken I can promise you that," he replied. She spat on the ground, then jumped from her chair to check whether he still had a pulse or not. It was difficult to get his arm out of the cramped position, but on closer examination she found a pulse, actually to her relief.

"He's in shock," she heard Jonas say. "No kidding smart ass!" she sneered at him. "You said it yourself. You usually wish to have as little as possible to with Jatfast. I did not think you would find this a good enough reason," he proclaimed dryly, rubbing it in her face. It made Snowy more irritated.

"**No I do not**! That is what I bloody hired you for didn't I?" Snowy gritted her teeth. "He's just doing it on purpose," she said firmly and crossed her arms in front of her small chest. "If he's in shock, we might have a serious problem. We cannot afford the loss of the profits he brings us. That's it! I won't allow him to go into shock!" She decided. With two hands she grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him until he would have cried out for mercy. "**You hear me! You MAY NOT go into shock! I made a deal with you**!" Snowy snapped at him. Jonas chuckled again.

"This is still about that debatable wrong between you two isn't it," he dared to bring that up. She turned around and snorted like a wild boar at him. "Maybe this is not the time to think about who is right or wrong, but to think about how we can solve this. You two have screamed at each other for years. Perhaps an apology will snap him out of it," the hidden grin behind his scarf was clearly imbued with sarcasm. Snowy gave him a resounding slap to his shoulder with a fist full, she did not hit as hard as Jeri could whack, but hard enough to crack his joint. Everyone could hear it when Jonas took a step aside to find his balance again. The nasty laugh produced by the forsaken was to mock her. He was not afraid of her, not even with his arm dangling like a string alongside his body.

"**That has nothing to do with it**!" She yelled at him. Jonas his yellow eyes fixed on her. "Oh, but I think it has everything to do with it, perhaps more than you want to admit to yourself," he said with his dark voice as he grabbed his arm and shoulder again pushed his joint back into place.

"Do you wish to be out of a job?" She threatened him. Jonas ignored her, concentrating until he heard the crack that made sure his limb arm was back into place again. Snowy stubbornly turned her head from him, angry as she could be. "The last thing I need here is my angry sister….before she personally comes to break off all of Undercity to kick my ass because I have not taken care of her husband like I promised," Snowy said, she rested a hand on Jatfast's hand, feeling very wry when she said it. "That and a dead Jatfast. Do what you were hired for Jonas, take care of him so I do not have to! He is more use to us if he does not die here, who else will brings us the goods from Ratchet?" She sneered at him, wanting to have the last word. Jonas only laughed while the rest of the group stared silently. Snowy turned back to him, her face confident.

"Maybe I am not as impressive to you as she is, mister Jonas Dredegewood, but I know from a very reliable source you would rather not rub Jeri's hair the wrong way," with that she ended the conversation and made her way through the group. Jonas gave a last sarcastic chuckle before he sent everyone back to work.

When Snowy came back to the workshop she immediately locked herself up in the room she called office. With all four locks of the door bolted. She rested her head against the wall. Jonas did not have the right to bring up such a delicate subject in public. But she knew he was right. This was just another stupid trick of Jatfast to make her feel guilty, she told herself. It would not surprise her if Jonas had stirred him into doing this in the first place.

Jonas, that man! She made a fist, wanting to punch the wall, but decide not to because it was solid brick here, not the sand and clay they used to build goblin houses with. The man was insufferable sometimes. She would love to rebury him one day. Or remove all his limbs in the workshop. He was sometimes as false as any demon. More because she suspected he enjoyed it as a form of entertainment. If he wasn't such a good business partner she would have rid herself from him a long time ago.

Above all that he was, he was also this formidable businessman who knew the ways of the goblins to get what he wanted. Something she had not seen so quickly in another race. That made him a very good choice to deal with Jatfast. After all, he basically mixed himself in a convenient loophole in the deal Snowy and Jeri had devised from buying the dead from Ratchet to sell them for spare parts to Undercity and a earn a shiny coin to that. They tolerated him because he could negotiate as any goblin. And because he was very good at arranging things. This way she did not need to be dealing with Jatfast. But she did suspected Jonas took to deliberately stir up things that didn't concern him, such as family matters between Jatfast and Snowy, if only for his own amusement. Jonas did love a bit of drama.

Sometimes she even wondered who he had been in his previous life. Now she was annoyed with him, as she often was. Knowing that he had managed to hit her with his sharp comment about that questionable wrong or right issue. Where Jatfast and Snowy used to be friends once, they were each other's worst nightmare now. There had always been discord between them, for years...

And to be really honest, she didn't want that. He could have prevented all this, simply by saying he was wrong and she was right. He did it for Jeri all the time, why could he not set aside his pride and to that for her? How difficult was it to agree with her? He refused it still after all this time. Jonas had a valid point, not that she wold give him any praise for that, on the contrary. There were times when she would lie to her own sister rather than give away Jatfast secret writing identity. Why could he not return the favour and admit he was peeping at Miss Jade? She would have taken him by his ears, scolded him and told him Jeri should not become unhappy about this or she knew where to find him. His secret identity, she helped him think of that one. Quickie McFingers.

She chuckled. If only that stupid incident did not drive them apart they could have been such good friends. Now she wasn't really sure she wanted be right anymore. After seeing him like that she could scream as loud as she wanted, but there was no fun if he did not return her the honours. It was actually almost pathetic the way she seen him there. That only made her worried. Because she secretly missed him sometimes as her close friend.

* * *

><p>"Put him down there, gently, I'll keep an eye on him," Rotharian pointed at the rickety bed with the straw mattress in the corner of the small dark room. Jonas ordered the ones that carried Jatfast to lower him with some form of humanity instead of slam dunking him on the matrass.<p>

"Unfortunately, I cannot lay him in Snowy's office, though I would have liked to have done so," said the forsaken in a very amused way. "Of course," it was a rather cynical answer he got out of the elf. "Don't worry, no one will disturb him here," Rotharian promised with a grin. "Of course," Jonas nodded his head in way of greeting when he disappeared with the two goblins in the direction of the workshop. Rotharian leaned against the wall as he watched Jatfast. Silently wondering what had happened anyway. He had only caught snatches of the hassle of the busy chatter between the goblins when Jonas had brought him in. But it was not very clear. What he saw was someone who was in need of rest. Even Rotharian knew the symptoms of too much stress.

Jatfast stared into the empty space, the area him moved as if he was drunk. The hairs on his arms were still standing up straight after the amount of magic the portal had drawn after Suarez had opened it. The disbelief was still written on his face, bewilderment, his jaw clenched tight as he tried to understand what had happened. His brain did not wish to cooperate, he kept finding he repeated himself in his head. They left him…without asking they left for Ratchet.

Right from the corner of his eye he saw something move near the wall. Glowing green eyes and the outline of a shadowy figure who came his way. Long shiny dark brown hair fell over his arm when the shimmery figure approached him and covering him with a blanket. The warmth was welcomed.

Jatfast tried to focus, first to figure out where it had gone wrong. The only thing he could think of was that the tensions had risen above normal lately. Not only in doubt of friendship within the group, but also in Ratchet itself. And it all started with…" Riselle?"

Rotharian froze for a second ... what did he just say?

* * *

><p>Riselle smiled bright and spontaneous as she sat opposite of Asalt. Her face was beaming when he had said that she was no longer under house arrest. Her: "I could almost kiss you for that," was a sudden outburst she blurted out, after which she blushed lightly. Asalt gave her a sly wink and thanked her kindly for that offer. Asalt suddenly understood why Hurias was so smitten with this woman. As she sat there and beamed she was really nice looking. Her personality lovely in its own way. He could almost be hooked himself when he looked at her. Almost like a spontaneous love. Of course he knew better. Fortunately he was not taken off guard so quickly, and he did not reason with his lower region, more with his healthy goblin mind.<p>

"Miss Riselle, before you're already packing, the fact remains that you are not yet allowed to leave town. Keep that in mind," Asalt said in a friendly tone for his doing. She nodded, she wanted to participate in everything, as long as it meant she was no longer under house arrest.

"May I when I have permission to go somewhere?" She informed carefully. Asalt flipped through the protocol back and forth to find the page he needed, then nodded slowly. 'It shall have to be authorized by me or a higher authority, and under the guidance of Greymur. You will therefore need to discuss that with him. Even though you are no longer under arrest, we're not done with the full investigations about the incident in the tavern yet. If they are officially completed you're really free. To go and we will return your sword to you. Until then you have to bear with me and remain in Ratchet. I trust that is not too much to ask is it," he smirked generously at her. If she left now it could cause a very big problem he thought when he looked at her. Riselle nodded understandingly.

"I think the good news will be appreciated by Greymur. Since he was quite moody lately. I have an official document that will allow you to claim a submitted and written request for removal of the bracelet. It has to be official you see. You should have it signed by Zef, he controls a large part of the administrative affairs. If it is signed then you may go to Zanak to have it remove it. You can find Zef somewhere Gazlowe's office," Asalt went ahead and reiterated the papers before he handed them over to Riselle.

Riselle still knew who Zef was. She did not know how fast she had to have them signed but if it meant she had to face that small annoying gobbling then so be it."Well, chop chop! Go enjoy the day! "Asalt had a playful twinkle in his eyes when he saw her get up and make a formal bow to him. "You have my gratitude," she said. Riselle long loose hair swung back and forth when she had made the bow and very quickly turned towards the exit. Asalt grinned again, sighed with relief that she had left.

Riselle felt like dancing, finding the the dry air in Ratchet suddenly did not feel so dusty. The busy town was suddenly no more annoying. She no longer cursed the goblins and their noisy statements. The sun was warm but welcome on her face as she stood there. It made her hair shine when she stopped for a moment and took in the busy environment of the town.

The sudden impulse of a large amount of magic shivered over her skin when the air was filled with magic. For a moment it felt as if she was cold. The woven magic creating the portal felt familiar. In Silvermoon she had been used to the constant magic flow in the city. Now she was gone for such a long time it felt new all over. The announced portal was a sudden surprise. She had never before experienced it in Ratchet, perhaps because they held no official route for portal use. The big magic oval shape formed not far from the bank. She stood very close she realized. Several goblins shot aside when the portal completely opened. Some held up a fist and shouted that they had to look out where they placed the spell. Riselle had no time to see who would come through. She wanted to hurry to Greymur to tell him. The good news. So she ran, the paper clutched in her hands, in the direction of the area where his house was.

* * *

><p>The man also felt the magic that radiated the portal. His face was shaved except for a goatee. He one of the passengers that only stepped foot into ratchet only half a day ago. It had been a long and hard boat trip from Booty –Bay to Ratchet. Now he walked on his own sweet time through Ratchet, getting to know his way around the crowded streets, while his friends arranged a room in one of the many taverns.<p>

Booty Bay had been an unmitigated disaster. He wondered how eager they were for gold here. In Booty Bay and Winterspring they were all responding in a greedy goblin ways when he used his golden resources. It was actually a blessing in disguise that he had accidentally travelled to Ratchet, as his next stop would originally been Fuselight by the sea.

For a moment he stood watching as the large oval formed into a portal. But his eyes did not watch the portal, what particularly interested him was the young woman who suddenly came walking out of an alley near the portal. Looking at her gave him a cruel grin on his face as he recognized her immediately. He cursed his brother in mind for sending him on a wild goose chase and spending useless time walking the wrong track. He had to be sure, so he checked every report that gave a hint of her whereabouts. Not only a careful procedure, but he took as long as possible to be as far away from his mother for as long as possible.

And now he saw her. Just in the middle of this busy port. The small slender shape of the blood elf was by no doubt hers. He finally found her. She instantly reminded him of the many troubles she caused him. How could she possibly stand there so relaxed in the middle of the street, a hand raised above her head to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Yes, enjoy it while you can...," he said with a satisfied feeling that he had finally managed to find her. The sun shone on that beautiful long dark hair of hers. He wanted to grab it in his fist and pull her back in a harsh way, to hear her scream out the pain if he could. He licked his lips for a moment when a lust based memory reminded him of what she was like in bed. It stirred a small arousal in his lower region. It also made him look at her like a hunter eyeing its prey. Anayis was not even interesting in that way. Riselle, on the other hand, as one of the many women he conquered, was very much the opposite of Anayis. Her he would help remember who he was if he got his hands on her. Oh he would make sure she remembered him and regretted every step she took after that in crossing the wishes of his mother. He smirked, letting his tongue rub over his upper lip again when he looked at her. Without mother around he would make sure she would recognise him as her superior and would give him the proper respect she lacked to give him for being a champion of Silvermoon...

Patience and discipline…he smirked lightly to himself as he made he slowly followed her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28: Welcome 'home'**

"Shadowborn ..." The man inhaled deeply and blew out his breath through his nose in an angry way. His jaw quivered with tension. Like his hands did, holding the small piece of parchment. It bore the seal of the Shadowborn family...

'Meet me at the appointed time, Ranger Silva's will bring you to the right spot, Signed T. Shadowborn '

The date was today ...and he dealt with it straight away. Not hesitant like the last time he found a note to his wife to meet with this Shadowborn. Clutching his hand together he growled. Maybe he was out of the Council, he still had some strings left to pull from the time he didn't angle on the verge of destruction.

When he found the small piece of parchment with the time and date for the meeting he pulled in a favour with an old acquaintance. The man used to work with him as his clerk, back in his glory days. Long before the Lady Whitemorn kicked him off the Council.

Ivorian used to be a respectable member of the Silvermoon society. He did his job, set an example to the citizen and was open for counselling if they wished to speak with him. He used to teach magic classes to students, helping them to practise their spells. He loved doing that. How he wished he could turn back time for it.

When did he became so bitter and miserable over the years? Where did it all go wrong?

And with this, as he looked at the piece of parchment, he had reason to presume his wife had an affair. But this time to be prepared…when he casually asked his youngest daughter about the whereabouts of her mother, Ravahra could not give him a straight answer. It told him enough to pull in that favour from his old friend. He merely laid his story on the Council table, having a few old acquaintances hear him out when he presumably told the story of his fear that Ellearis was very likely having an affair and was going outside of her matrimonial bed. He even showed them the parchments he collected for evidence.

They agreed to bring it to aid in the Council, voting on how to deal with it best. She would be set to an example. Mostly because that was how he wanted it. He wanted her to feel he had still strength in him and that she could not so easily cast him aside. Making her answer for that if she didn't tell it herself.

Why he made that choice was entirely based on his anger, his arrogant pride, the egocentric fact he worked according to the old ways and that in the old days this would have been an issue for the Council to vote about. Though it was only done by request. She could be banned from Silvermoon for infidelity. Most of all, because he wanted her know he was not pathetic.

Of late he had felt troubled with his wife. She would not speak to him anymore, she was angered with him over their children and vexed when he made the decision about Riselle and Rotharian so abruptly. But she would submit to him. After this she could not refuse him, he was her husband!

Ivorian gritted his teeth, the corners of his mouth pulling down as his hands were shaking from the combination of anger and the fact that he was almost due to siphon magic. His fingers crumbled the parchment.  
>" Shadowborn... You bastard! SHADOWBORN! "He snarled, tore the parchment into small pieces, repeating the word "Shadowborn" to himself while doing so. His eyes flashed a darker green when he kept tearing it up until nothing was left but bits of crumbled pieces, flocks of dust. Then he broke the red seal and stomped it flat with his fist on the table making the small pieces of left over mingle with the red grit spread out all over his desk. His hands felt sore, his fingers stiff as he dropped his head in his hands in despair.<p>

"... I'll kill you if I catch you," he promised solemnly, suddenly a fist on his chest as he clenched the hem of his shirt, gurgling, gasping for breath while his chest seemed to rattle for air. His lungs fell they were on fire and then collapsed as his chest rose and fell in a disturbed pattern. The pain in his heart was searing. It made breathing difficult. His thoughts fuelling the mere idea of killing whoever T .Shadowborn was. How dare she be unfaithful to him!  
>His teeth chattered as he squeezed his eyes shut in a painful gesture, rasping breath. The pain radiated to the left side of his arm, as if somebody was stabbing him with knives.<p>

He laid his head on the table, the smell of wax filled his nose.

With his free hand he reached into his desk, desperate, almost in panic, snatching out the box from the drawer where he hid the crystals. He managed to find a way to unseal it with his trembling fingers, scooping up a crystal, breaking it with a hard blow to the surface of the desk. The crystal splinters flying everywhere. His head turning as he uttered a spell and took to the content to him, siphoning it from the crystal, feeding on it.

The immense boost of magic that directly flowed through his body caused the pain to faint away...soothe him. He took a deep breath as his lungs filled with air again. Remaining the way he was until the pain finally subdued.

For a moment he wanted to give up, leave it all behind. His eyes forever shut to the outside world and all the trouble that crossed his path. But he could not yet, he concluded.

When the pain had subsided he finally sat up, looking at the mess on his desk.

He decided to confront her with her infidelity openly. Giving her the time to admit to it herself, or she would suffer the consequences. He would confront her with everything, every detail about T. Shadowborn. He would make her crawl for forgiveness. Ellearis would beg for it when he was done with her…

When he stood up he slowly straightened his robes, thinking now was his time to shine in it.

Ellearis mounted her hawkstrider. The large bird at ease when she sat herself gently down in the saddle. Not aware of any of the trouble that was coming her way. Not until she heard the door to the stables open. With raised eyebrows she looked at the door, as the stable hand usually agreed to be out when she left, so nobody could hold it against.

"Ellearis!" He called her name when he walked into the stables. His wife did not answer. He went further back down the many stables. Finding her eventually. She sat astride the saddle of the hawkstrider, high above him. Her face is not amused at all when she saw him. He was not supposed to be here.

"I have an errand to run, something important," she said very decidedly. He shook his head. Something snapped. She was not going anywhere...

"You will remain here…," he said to her, wanting to take the reign from the mount. She expressed her displeasure at him by snorting, kicking the hawkstrider to walk passed him. He growled, feral from the deepest and darkest corner of his being. Angered!

"LISTEN TO ME!" He yelled at her. She shook her head with a determination that he knew all too well from her.

Shaking hands suddenly grabbed her skirts as he literally pulled her down from the hawkstrider. With a hard blow she ended up with her head against the floor while her eyes rolled up in pain and she was knocked out for a moment.

The hawkstrider panicked when his rider fell. Ivorian ignored the painful groan that his wife uttered when she fell, with a small effort he stepped over her fragile being. She did not move as she lay on the ground. He used the situation to address the hawkstrider.

"**Away with you**!" Ivorian hissed at the hawkstrider as he swung his arms up and down to cause the large bird to panic. The mount turned around, stressed yet confident to find the one who attacked its rider. It was a bond between rider and the moment it ever hatched to feel protective towards the one that was so close in raising it next to the mother. Beady eyes glared around, a large beak ready to peck. The confusion of the animal complete when all he saw was Ivorian. The male giving off something angry, even the bird could feel that as the man towered over the woman. Ivorian chased the bird back as he took a step toward him, pushing him into the stables. The hawkstrider screamed loudly when he locked the door with a loud thud.

Ellearis rubbed her head, half coming up while she felt dizzy. Her whole head hurt. Why did he do that?

She looked over her shoulder, eyeing his back, to see how he locked the hawkstrider in its stable. The beast screamed again, it was a pitiful cry for help. She blinked, feeling scared suddenly. Then he turned around, his eyes blazing with an anger she had not seen for a long time. With fear in her eyes she tried to crawl away from him. Her head pounding in pain as she moved forward. One hand in front of the other, legs strangled in her own skirts.

"Where do you think you are going, Ellearis?" she stiffened when he said her name. That was not the Ivorian she recognized. "I-I'm leaving," she said, her voice trembling. "I have to go to the rangers!" She heard him laugh hatefully.

"You are not going anywhere," he promised her. Her mind blurred when he yanked her back by her hair, pulling out the gem studded pins from it as they clattered to the ground. Crushed under his feet when he stepped on top of it. She yelped, crying as she tried to claw her way out, to try and bite him anywhere. He literally dove on top of her, his hands grasping her shoulders while his weight forced her down. Ellearis uttered a startled cry at him.

She looked so feared when he grabbed her painfully. With his current stature she would not have suspected he would surpass her with strength. But anger did a lot to a person. Somehow she was glad he tried to express it forcefully and not with his magic. The had done that one time in her life. Substantial harming her in his anger, she still boar the marks for it. Would he have used his magic now, she would not have survived.

"You should have known better... Ellearis..," he said through clenched jaws. Ivorian was not just angry, he was furious. A vicious anger. He seemed to calm down when she did nothing. When he finally relaxed his grip on her she dared to look at him from the side.

"Ivorian... please let me explain! It's not what you think," she began in a pleading tone. His mouth trembled again, she felt his warm breath on her skin, knowing that the muscles were tensed in his neck and that the vain running down would throb as his anger increased. It drove him to madness. He turned her around very abruptly, to face him, so she had to look him straight in his eyes. The fingers of one hand digging into her shoulder.

With the palm of his other hand he slapped her full in her face….*SMACK* The sound hard, the feeling painful as it left a red mark on her cheek. She looked so overwhelmed. Tears welled up in her eyes for a moment before she managed to maintain her attitude. Looking at him in pity. He saw her, annoyance raging in him.

Maybe she had always known he would go mad at some point. But she did not think that would be now.

Ivorian looked aghast at his hand when the pain of the blow still reflected in it. Something else broke inside him, placing him back into reality. He let her go, standing up in awe. The corners of his mouth trembled... he had just hit his wife... with his head bowed in shame he was suddenly feeling so embarrassed. When did he ever feel the need to hit her?

He adored her. He had always loved her. From the moment he met her he knew she was his match, she made him complete. Together they formed a good foundation in their marriage... where did it go wrong?

There was a very long awkward silence between them when he looked down at her. He extended his hand to her, to draw her up on her feet, not to hit her again. She looked broken. "I did it for our children...," she suddenly said, as if this was the only moment to confront him with it. Gripping his hand firmly as she got up. "Do you know how it feels to lose two children so close after each other," she yelled now. That was his fault. He could hear it in the tone of her voice.

"You are having an affair…," he sneered at her as reply. Ellearis seemed amazed by that statement, was that truly what he was thinking?

She suddenly laughed, harsh and not holding back. His eyes flared with anger again. "No Ivorian, I have been seeing our grandson... the son of your eldest daughter that you so violently threw out when she came to you for advice and help! I should have made my choice then…I could have prevented things!" The laughter silenced into heavy sobbing. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, looking at him. His mouth twisted into a grimace.

"Who is T. Shadowborn?" He demanded to know. He did not really want to know, but asked anyway. She looked at him.

"He is Thallen Shadowborn," she said angrily in her sobs. "Cousin to your highly esteemed Councilmember Shadowborn. He is one of the group members that remained in Shattrah to help rebuild it after our Prince…," she silenced herself on the subject Kael'thas Sunstrider, his name hard for her to pronounce with all the shame he caused to his people. Accepting he did forced her to accept they would never walk the times of old.

"Thallen is important. This young man has saved the lives of both our daughter... and that our grandson. He remains in Shattrah, something the Lady Whitemorn may never come to know...," when she mentioned that name Ivorian suddenly felt ill. He looked long and hard at Ellearis.

"What's the connection between Councilmember Whitemorn and our children," he wanted to shake her to get an instant answer from her. "Ivorian…we need to talk, badly. The Lady Whitemorn is not who she claims to be…, "Ellearis narrowed her eyes as she looked at her husband. "There are things you should know. But I fear that we have made the wrong choices... and our children are paying the price for our own vanity," was her decision. And that was only half of the story she was about to tell him.

Ivorian looked pale and sick. "Maybe we're not too late yet...," she heard him say. Ellearis eyes filled with tears again when he said that, finally showing his true feelings and concerns as a father. "If we hurry we can explain things to the Council," he gritted his teeth, weary and tired.

" ... What have you done? "Ellearis had only to look at him to know something was wrong. For the first time in his life Ivorian felt beaten down by life, no longer superior. He wished he could turn back time if he was about to tell her what favour he called in...

"HEY!" Two goblin Bruisers kept Suarez and Hurias standing when they stepped from the portal and the mage let it disappear.

A moment before, Hurias would almost have kissed the ground when he set foot in Ratchet again. He wanted to thank Suarez on his knees for bringing him back. That they would immediately counter problems never occurred to him. "Do you know it is not permitted to make a portal in the middle of the city?" One screamed loudly. Before them a small goblin with short shoulders hanging forward stood. On his face were several badly healed scars. An eye-patch hid one eye. Hurias shivered at the sight of the man peering at him.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, at ease! We are all men are we not? My friend and I have just returned from Undercity. We had no idea that it was not allowed to create a portal in Ratchet," Suarez grinned, feeling little comfortable. The commotion caused them to stand in the spotlight of attention. Something he did not like.

"Oh Boohoo! You did not know it was not allowed. That's pretty stupid mage! Where have you been hiding all your life? Everyone knows that it is not allowed to enter the city via portals. Too big, too dangerous. Outside of Ratchet, no problem, but within not allowed. Not here! Violation of rules is a very big offense!" he said, the slick grin spreading over his greasy face. Oh how he loved to use his authorization to make the crowd look impressed at the job he did.

"Can't you squint an eye?" Suarez got an angry flare at him, the man starting a tirade about respect. He could clearly not laugh about it. Suarez could about the respect part, as the man clearly held none for him. The mage held up his hands in defeat while he made a soothing gesture to the Bruiser. The other Bruiser, a young person with a sickly yellow colour to his skin, lurked at Hurias. His eyes keen, as if he saw something familiar but could not find the words.

"I was going to give a warning," the man with the eye patch didn't look like he was going to do that now, not after Suarez just blew it. The mage sighed deeply. "Alright, what will it cost me to get this dismissed and consider off the record?" he finally asked.

The younger one, with the yellowish skin colour looked very indignant. "Just who do you think you're dealing with here…mage? We do not just take a bribe!" He got a slap on the arm of the smaller one, pulling him down by his ear. "Let me handle this!" he hissed in the ear of the younger one, pulling it extra hard so the man squeaked.

"Keep an eye on the elf. I will take a moment to discuss things with this one," a word with the other meant he would be willing to accept a bribe. When the younger nodded, he rubbed his painful ear.

The man with the eye patch beckoned Suarez to come with him. They would walk a little away from the group that was watching, just far enough to make it look like he was scolding the sighed again, thinking on what this was going to cost him.

"Sixteen gold coins, then I'll consider it off the record," he said, the man pulled him around the corner next to the bank. "Sixteen! That's a bit much!" Suarez said. Finding that he really wasn't aware of the rules count a little in this. The man with the eye patch grinned again. "I can also arrest you and deliver you and the elf to prison. Hazer, the jailor, he would love to hear the elf squeal like a girl. He isn't really known to be in a hurry to hand out people after they spent time for their offense. So go ahead. Sixteen gold coins, or whatever else you have to offer?" The man informed him, saying he was ready to bargain about it. Knowing very well he had the upper hand in the situation.

"This is pure extortion," Suarez growled. "Yeah, what off it? You do not act as law around here mage, I do. But clearly you weren't aware of the rules in Ratchet. Stupid thing, gives away you're an outsider and gives me the right to ask a higher price," the bruiser smirked at him.

The mage didn't argue with him. He did look questionable in his money pouch. He counted thirteen gold coins, some loose silver and some copper coins.

"Ten gold coins," Suarez offered as he looked the man up and down. The sleazy male snickered. "Ten? What do you think I 'm, crazy?" The man laughed in a grim way. "Sixteen," he held on to that amount. "I don't have that much," the mage said with a dark tone. The battered side of the eye patch looked a bit disappointed. "How much do you have then?" He wanted to know. "Thirteen gold coins, ten silver en six copper," Suarez sighed, the eager look in the eyes of the little man not to his liking.

"Does it for me! Because it's you, mage," he said with a dirty grin, clapping him on the shoulder as if they were best friends and he granted Suarez a favour with that. The mage grumbled when he finally handed over his thirteen golden. The man with the eye patch bite ever one of the coins to Suarez surprise before he let him go.

As if he would backstab him and hand over fake ones. After the eye patched male seemed satisfied he joined the other again, saying they were free to go. That solved the problem. The Bruisers continued their round, the younger looking happy as the man with the eye patch offered him three gold coins of the bribe.

"Jatfast is going to pay me back, he just doesn't know it yet," he claimed with a specific grin. Hurias frowned at him for that. It made him chuckle slightly when he heard the mage make a promise on it. "Shall we seek out that orc of yours?" Said Suarez. Hurias nodded, glad he was home again.

Greymur dropped cutting with this knife when Riselle literally came rushing in, the door flying open as she almost stumbled in her attempt to walk. She was beaming, gaining her breath. Something had obviously happened he figured. His own mood not the best.

Rena barked loudly when she saw the elf wave around papers in one hand while closing the door behind her. Greymur glanced briefly at her before continuing cutting up the meat from a rabbit. Scraping the flesh from the small creature was stretched out on a small rack and pinned with wooden pins to make it stay. It would have to dry first before the leather could be tanned.

The head of the rabbit featured on the wooden cutting board, eyes closed. Rena had been drooling while Greymur cut the meat, hoping to gain at least a little treat. She got none so far. When the elf came in the wolf was quite enthusiastic to see Riselle waving her hand up and down with something. Maybe you could eat it?

Before Riselle knew it was Rena jumped up, laying her huge paws against Riselle's shoulders, putting all her weight against the blood elf who lost her balance. She ended up with the wolf on top of her as her bottom hit the ground, the papers flying in all directions. Rena snapped at them when they passed her and lay crumbled on the floor. She sniffed them, disappointed that it was not edible. No snack, very unfortunate.

With a pitiful whine she jumped out of Riselle's lap and lay down on the ground. Riselle grinned. The wolf closed her eyes and ignored the elf.

"Terrible snack diva! Behave yourself! I should really do something about that annoying habit of yours!" Greymur looked angered, shaking his head once in a surly way to the pair of them. He dipped his hands in the water bucket next to the table, dried his hands on the cloth and picked up one of the papers.

The handwriting was small and neat, no standard goblin handwriting. He turned the paper over so he could read what it said. Reading was something he could do, but he wasn't always patient enough for it. Jeri made it her goal to teach him when she met him. He did master it during his time in Orgrimmar, learned from a woman who taught him, mostly because she liked him.

Jeri bested his poor attempt when she first saw him write something. She made it her goal to make sure he learned it properly. She was a good teacher, surprisingly. And became a close friend. Not that he often used it, writing and reading. It was still easier to negotiate by mouth he found, but it was useful.

"He has set you free?" His voice was coarse when he read it again. It was really there. Signed by Asalt himself, but still missed the rest of the signatures to make it official. She looked intently at him.

"I cannot leave Ratchet yet and I am not allowed to venture outside the stones without you," she added. Greymur muttered to himself. "Asalt could have mentioned it earlier," Greymur thought out loud, his reaction to what he read on paper. He handed it back to her.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Greymur grunted as he turned, no mood to confront him she knew by now."It is not your fault! Besides, I have no use for regret Riselle, I obtain no honour from that. I want to make sure they really let you go," his voice was raw when he spoke, almost bitter. "So you're not happy with the decision?" She hardly dared to ask him, noticing he was not in a particularly good mood today. "Perhaps I was hoping that the prospect of not having to worry for me was a good one," she flared her nostrils to exhale softly.

He did not turn to her when he spoke again. "I am happy for you. I just have a lot of things on my mind. Anyway, be sure you have it signed, sealed and stamped on paper when dealing with goblins, even with Asalt and Gazwlowe. Black and white, so they cannot cheat you into anything. And I am glad they made the decision," was all he said.

He did not mention that the decision itself was not what worried him. But once she could leave and look for her brother it would make her an open target for those who wanted to harm her. That was what worried him. That and the fact that the idea of her departing from Ratchet –admitting- caused him pain in his heart. It suddenly sounded so close...

"You go and have Gazlowe sign those papers, make sure he does it, not somebody else!" he said as he picked up the knife again. His fist was huge around the handle of the child's knife. Riselle stared at his broad back and shoulders, burly he was, so typical for orcs. The muscles in his neck were tensed, his jaw probably clenched together, she could tell by the way he was standing with his back to her. Suddenly she hooked her arms around his waist, laying her head against that broad back of his. He tensed when she did that, rumbling a low grunt at her in surprise.

"I do not know how I can ever properly repay you…," he allowed the touch because it was her. He said something under his breath as he put the knife down again, turning her around. Whipping the tears from her eyes with a large grey finger when she looked at him. "Take advice from a grumpy grey orc Riselle. Make sure you stay safe, whatever you do. Because they will come after you, sooner or later... it will be dangerous if you should leave Ratchet. But I cannot stop you, but I would like to. Just make sure that you'll stay safe...," he grabbed her hands, freeing himself from her hug.

"Go, have those papers signed," he said coarse and turned away from her in an abrupt manner. She just nodded, a brief smile on her face. He didn't see that. "Take Rena!" He said. He heard the wolf jump up at the mention of her name. The wet nose against his hand made him look aside. "Go with Riselle," he ordered her. She barked once, very loud. As if that was the answer.

"Come on snackdiva," he heard Riselle say as she chuckled as the wolf approached her. "No snacks! I will get angry when you do!" He warned her. She didn't answer when the door snapped shut. His fist punched against the table, the knife flew against the wall, trembling as it got stuck in the wood. His mood very bad...

"Riselle?" It was Hurias who was totally surprised she darted past him. Her dark brown hair shone in the sun. By the Sunwell, he muttered to himself, she was beautiful. He was completely quiet when she turned and looked at him cheerfully.

"Hurias!" He got a spontaneous red face when she grabbed him by his hands and examined him by looking him over. He looked healthy, not undead, he missed no limbs. She smiled at the young man. "Oh ho ho ho, so this is the lovely Riselle I heard so much about…she is a fine young lady Hurias! Care to introduce me properly?" The elf seemed very stuck on words and very uncomfortable when Suarez asked him that with a sly wink.

"Never mind that, Suarez is the name, pleased to meet you. I thought I would bring the elf back to Ratchet," reported Suarez, making himself known to Riselle. She looked at him with the same smile, a short bow in greeting to the mage. She never seen the goblin before, but she was grateful that he brought Hurias back.

"Back in one piece I noticed," she laughed heartily. "Greymur is inside, he will like to talk," she mentioned. Hurias did not even get the chance to ask where she was going when she let go of his hands and danced away with Rena darting behind her.

Suarez merely grinned as he saw the woman walk off. She disappeared from their view, Hurias staring after her, a vague hand moving up and down in a pathetic waving motion.

The mage suddenly roared with laughter when he looked at the elf. "Oh wow oh wow ... Now I get it, someone is really in love! I totally understand why," he got a disapproving look of Hurias. The elf was all red in the face. "I am NOT in love!" he muttered angrily. "Sure, sure... whatever you want to believe, " chuckled the mage with a sarcastic tone in his voice.

Hurias sniffed once irritated when he walked to Greymurs house with Suarez.

Zef seemed surprised to find her walk into Gazlowe's office this time of day. The wolf next to her eyeing him with her golden eyes. Most of the other personal assistants were on a break. He was too, but always remained here. That she showed up here was rather…convenient. To look at her properly he adjusted his half goggles.

"Miss Riselle, what an unexpected pleasure,"Zef said. "Can I help you with anything?" he wished to nodded. "I would like to know if Gazlowe could spare a moment of his time for me," she said in a polite way. Zef scratches his head, his eyes glancing in a strange way.

"Is it urgent?" He looked her up and down, a smile playing on his stern face, which was odd. She didn't see him smile often, somehow it didn't suit him. "Not urgent, but I would like to speak with him in private about this," recollecting what Greymur told her about having him sign the papers and not anybody else. "May I see?" he asked, holding out his hands to the papers in her own. She nodded. Zef read them over carefully like Greymur had done. The grin on his mouth becoming wider. He seemed to ponder for a moment, before he snapped his fingers.

"Tell you what, I will settle you in the side room and will inquire with Gazlowe. He needed to speak with you anyway," he said, the tone of his voice slightly trailing. Rena let out a short bark as she cocked her head to one side, her ears backwards when she seemed to observe the goblin.

"I take it the orc did not come with you?" he asked casually. Riselle only looked at him, shrugging to leave it in the middle. He could see Greymur wasn't here. Zef rubbed his hands, nodding in a pleased way. "Follow me, Miss Riselle," he said, as she walked with him. Rena following next to her, the hairs in the back of her neck up.

Zef lead her through the back of the building as he eventually opened the door to the same room she was assigned to with Greymur months ago. Nothing had changed in it. Zef said it was quieter to speak in private. Riselle nodded, Rena's golden eyes followed his movement. He silently closed the door behind her, telling her he would check with Gazlowe.

The uneasy feeling was taken for anxiety when she felt off for some reason. Laying a hand on Rena's head she could feel she had her ears laid flat back to her head. Looking around the room brought back some nasty memories. Ironically it would end in the same room once Gazlowe signed the papers. Riselle waited nervously in the room, no rest to sit in one of the chairs. Rena whined softly when she noticed Riselle's behaviour.

The knock on the door startled her, relieved to see it was Zef who came walking in. The gleam in his magnified eyes looked a little frightening when he grinned at her. Riselle distracted herself with scratched Rena behind her ears, the wolf leaned against her, pressing her back. A low protective growl snarled at the goblin when Zef came closer. The elf looked at him, his expression misplaced when he wisely took a step back.

"Keep the wolf down, I mean no harm," he said, his voice strange. Riselle looked at him, watching as his hand clutched the handle to the door. Opening it further. The moment it swung open Rena suddenly sprang to life. From where she tried to push Riselle back, she snarled in less than a second. Riselle startled by the sudden reaction of the wolf.

"Miss Riselle? I think I have a surprise ..., "the sly voice sounded ominous when four stately men clad in full plate appeared behind him, blocking the only way out. They were all blond haired with stern faces. Two with swords and shields, the other two with spears. The dark red tabard obvious.

Rena stood, legs spread, snarling as her whole feral being showed she was about to attack.

"No...," Riselle backed away when the four gazed at her when she recognised the crest on their tabard. Panic in her eyes when she realized who they were and why Rena was growling like a maniac. They did a synonym step aside to make space. Honourguard….her heart beat in her throat. "Mr. Gazlowe was unfortunately unable to spare some time, but this young man has something to settle," chuckled Zef in a false way, exuberant cackling when the young man with his perfected hair stepped past the guards.

"What an honour…miss Riselle….a Champion of Silvermoon!" The goblin looked cruel. Rena growled again, her teeth bared as she uttered a low tone, meaning serious business when the man stepped in. Her hind legs ready to make a jump to his throat while her ears were still flat in her neck, eyes fixed on the men in front of her. The two carrying spears stepped into the room with him.

"Kill the wolf," his voice cold and confident. Rena jumped, only to be stopped by a spear in mid-air as it pierced her to her side. She yelped in a heart breaking snarl, falling to the ground. The guard stinging four times more. Riselle screamed a pitch high choke in disbelieve, jumping forward as she cried out for the wolf. Her hands in Rena's fur, shaking the wolf a little, only to look at glassy eyes that stared back at her.

Lohurin shook his head, that smile making him arrogant. He laughed harshly when he walked in on her, closing the space between them. He kicked the wolf in the stomach, grabbing Riselle by her arm as he pulled her up. Rena did not respond anymore.

Lohurins strong gasp on her arm hurting her. "And finally we have found you ... the runaway maiden. You have no idea what we had to go through to find you," he remarked cynically to her. "Thanks to our goblin alley here...," the man said in a rather scornful tone as he nodded some praise for the goblins actions. Zef seemed pleased with it. Riselle looked at him in disbelieve.

"Greymur was right not to trust you…," she blurted out. It made Zef laugh.

"Take her away," Lohurin said. "Ensure that you do it discreetly, we do not want to attract the attention, least of all the orc," he ordered. The guards nodded simultaneously. Riselle's vision blurred when one of the men slapped her against the side of her sleep with the pommel of his sword, knocking her out cold.

* * *

><p>Author's note: We pulled back open the pit that is the storyline of Riselle and her companions. I adjusted some bits to the chapter, and reposted it.<p> 


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29: Chaos**

The crystal was shaking, the material from which it was made was shivering in her hand as she held it. Fingers coiled around it to feel it pulsate like a beat to a drum. The chain to which it usually hung made it almost seems like a pendulum. The dark purple crystal had a reddish content, and the red content swirled itself around in an almost smoke like way, circling around and around.

The sudden heat that went through her hand made her nearly drop the crystal. At the very last moment she casted a spell on it, to freeze its content. The ice clinging to the corners of the oddly shape. Making the inside stop swirling. It would only be moment when it started again. It made her very aware how strong he still was.

The crystal defrosted moments later, she could feel the drops of the ice melt and drip down her hand when she looked at it. It pulsed with life this crystal, so much was clear. But most of all, it pulsated with a heavy form of aggression. An evil form she recognised. One that curled a cold smile around her lips for a moment when Lilah Whitemorn looked at the crystal. Her dark eyes fixated on what happened inside. The unnatural cold smile on her lips remained.

She caught his soul in a soul gem fragment, it was the only thing she could do when he was dying. And the only thing that came to mind to not release him to cross over. Even now she controlled his life. Forcing him in this crystallized state while he was supposed to have finally been left in peace.

She smiled when the content of his spirit restlessly rotated itself around within the cramp space of the gem.

"If only you could scream at me, you would have done it, wound you not, Asathar?" She put both her hand lovingly on the rotting corpse of her son. The maggots under her fingers moved as a unit of wiggling soldiers around Asathar's now stinking carcass.

With a disgusted face she used her thumb and index finger to shoot one that dared to crawl up her finger. The fat worm like maggot tickling the tip as it dared to venture towards the palm of her hand. The small white creature flew across the square room, ending up against the wall. She burned it with a simple spell, mana consuming for something that wasn't actually needed.

She stood up, hanging the crystal on the chain back around her neck as she let it fall between her cleavage again. When she looked down at what was left of her son's rotting corpse she still smiled that cold smile of hers.

The maggots crawling literally in and under the skin. IT was a rather disgusting view, even she had to admit that. The young man's long blond hair was nothing anymore. After weeks of lying here, and the damp surrounding of the cavern like catacombs underneath her summer mansion, it turned into a mushy half wet grimy glued substance.

She had spent hours in the tomb over the last few weeks, thinking, hurting her brain over and over in what she could possibly do to safe him. Even now he was dead she still would not let him go.

Days spent at his broken body. No time for anything or anyone.

When they finally dared to send somebody down she was about to kill the man without hearing what he came for. How dare he disturb her? Not even her small cult of followers dared to venture and annoy her with daily things that requested her attention.

The messenger came to bring life-changing news. The man only survived his intrusions because he brought good news...

That one sentence, it had almost made her heart skip a beat. And she almost embraced the man for it. "They found them," that was all she needed to hear. That they found them…they meant both of them. Both mother and baby! She did right by sending Lohurin after the wench, even though he had to take a lucky guess to where she was. That they sought out the given tip from the councilmember about a meeting at the rangers turned out to be more profitable then she hoped.

Thus the mother mission continued. That one vague tip that had come in from the her so called "friend" that still owed her a favour, that stated to have some of her guards go and seek out the rangers, that one tip provided her with the one thing she desired most….the child!

It had been the golden tip after all. Her spies near the rangers confirmed a meeting between the young Shadowborn and the mother of the wench…

When the councilmember wanted to be paid for his information, she offered him to have him keep his life instead. When she told him he could consider her favour dealt with the man said nothing anymore. He left in a rush, before she would change her mind after that.

"Now it will all go according to plan, my dear," she said, her voice sounded hoarse, her face had a hellish cold expression that predicted little good. "I'll give you what I have promised my son. A cure for which you died. With the bastard's body you will be able to live on… we have a real chance ..., "she clasped her hands together as she kissed the rotting flesh of her son's brow. Then she walked out of the tomb, sealed the door again and went upstairs.

Now she had to speak to the goblins that brought in the man and the baby...

* * *

><p>Riselle woke up with a pounding headache. Her hands were painful, her fingers stiff. She tried to move them, but her wrists were locked in a tight shackle around it. The cuffs so tight it made her unable to move her wrists at all. It was very painful if she tried. From the dried blood she presumed it had been there for a while, making her wonder how long she had been out.<p>

The middle was held together by a simple steel pin in the centre, it had a ring head to it from which two chains were attached. The chains of the shackles pulling her hands up above her head as the chain was attached to two strong iron rings in the wooden wall, tightly sealed with two thick locks.

She looked at the structure, trying to sharpen her focus on it. The headache prevented her from looking for very long.

"It is a well thought out concept isn't it?" said the low dark voice near her. She moved her head, meeting a hand stroked the hair from her face.

"You have really beautiful hair Riselle. Something I never really noticed. Then again I should not because you were not designated to be my wife, were you. Yours is dark…like I am within…Anayis has nothing compared to your attitude…," it sounded almost as if he regretted that. His finger rested behind her ear for a moment. He draped the strand s of her hair behind it, almost lovingly.

She froze when she saw who did it. He just grinned wickedly. His perfectly handsome face giving her a foul smirk when he looked back at her. His fingers suddenly grabbing a small piece of the skin on the outer edge of her ear, diffing his nails in the edge of it.

She gritted her teeth when it hurt. She did not give him the satisfaction of crying for it. She could see he loathed her for that.

"Is that the sport, as you once called it? To lock a person in and just impose your will upon her?" She asked between her gritted teeth. He lost his grin instantly, jerking her head to the right with a firm tug. She looked at him from under her eye lashes as she lay in a rather uncomfortable position.

"I have many more ways to make my businesses a sport, Riselle. And this is only the beginning of what I call…team sport," she flinched when he spoke. Knowing what he and his friends preferably did together. His face now very close to hers again. She growled like a proper orc suddenly, the renewed fighting spirit flaming her.

She spat him in the face when she got the chance. Snapping her teeth at him to try and bit him anywhere. She managed to sink her teeth in his chin when he screamed out loud.

"STUPID WENCH!" he yelled, pulling back so she could not bite him again. Then he laughed, hateful, while he used the palm of his hand to wipe his chin clean and examine the teeth mark she left to the side of it.

"Mother wants you alive... but she did not say _how_ alive, " he said menacingly. Riselle screamed when the full fist hit her in the middle of her face. Her nose creaked as it done the time Jeri pounced her. A dash of pain shot through the nerves around her face as she felt the bone bend the wrong way. Piercing her skin in a nasty painful way. It instantly caused her tears to her eyes, the blood dripping from her nostrils ran down her mouth as they dripped on the bed.

She barely had time to take a breath when the second blow hit her on her left eye. The nagging pain immediately sealed her sight from it as her eye became thick from the bruise.

The young woman screamed again, attempting to get roll away, pulling the chains that held her wrists up. He held her head locked, painfully to the right, firmly damage the skin on the edge. Making it rather clear to her he had the upper hand.

He hit her again, this time full on her jaw, though the force less then what he did to her nose. She could taste the coppery blood welling in her mouth as she spat it out. It made her nausea when she swallowed part of it. Her tongue almost stuck between her clenched jaws when he hit her again in the same spot.

He could feel her jaw swell to the blow he casted. "Stop... please," the supplication followed with a series of blows to her head, punching her near her temple several times. It made her dizzy, numb when she thought her brains would burst. He only stopped when the door to the cabin opened and one of the guards came to report that they were out in open sea.

"The captain would like to talk to you about the route that was suggested, Lord Whitemorn," the man said in a neutral -sounding tone.

Lohurin growled. "Does it have to be now?" He tried, his lust filled passion for beating up the young woman not completely subsided.

"Yes, sir, he needs your confirmation on something," the guard said, not looking at the woman chained to the bed.

It made Lohurin grumble out loud. He let her go with. Tapping his index finger to her forehead.

"I'll be back, you little whore, and then we will have plenty of time to renew our 'friendship', as we did that night," he said, almost mild. The chuckle that followed could be called anything but, as that sounded demon -like. Riselle shivered in an unpleasant way when he ran his tongue alongside the bleeding edge of her ear.

"Make sure there is a guard at the door. And bring me to the captain," he sounded authoritative when he gave his orders. She could see only half of the man when she tried to move her head.

Greymur looked at Rena. His face angry. He had been nothing but angry when they finally found her. Learning that Riselle was gone. The wounds to Rena severe, deadly even.

* * *

><p>The wolf did not heal fast enough...<p>

He punched the wall again in anger. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in a dangerous anger. The corners of his mouth displeased. Rena whined softly. He instantly shifted his attention to her when he heard her soft yelp when. Her golden eyes looking straight at him.

The orc sighed heavily, bitter. He should never have left her on her own…he thought it would not matter, as she was supposed to wander around on her own…walking straight into the one person he tried to protect her from.

Zef had rushed up to him. The man's goggles were broken, his beady eyes narrowed to the light of the sun when he came to meet them, out of breath.

"They took her….they took Riselle!" was all he said. He cooperated without question, leading them to the place where he supposedly found Rena. The letters that would have been signed scattered across the floor when he barged into the small room.

The story of the goblin rather unpleasant when he told he was hit over the head, showing his large lump to the back of his head. His bruised real enough. Greymur ran for Rena when he found her in near death. The wolf's eyes glassy. How she managed to cling onto that last string of life was still a miracle to him…

He took the small children knife, cutting open the soft material he used to bandage her wounds. And she was stabbed in vital organs. If she had not been healed by Adina's gift she would have died on him.

And Riselle…according to Zef he had seen her been dragged out. The small goblin told him he feigned to be unconscious after they hit him not hard enough over the head.

His fists were clenched for a moment, the muscles in his neck stretched like cables. His frown deep. His voice rough when he turned to look at Jeri. "We will FIND her!" he grunted angrily.

Hurias, Jeri, Suarez only sat there, looking at him while he worked in an angry yet fast way to tend to Rena's wounds. He tried to spare her the pain when he tended to the wounds by cleaning them as fast as possible.

"I need you here Rena…you're the only one who can tell me where she is," he spoke in a soft grunting tone to his wolf. It seemed to calm Rena as she closed her golden eyes, her breathing heaving a little unsteady after he bandaged her.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30: Misery**

Rotharian raised his arm to block out the sun when he looked up at the sky. In front of him spread out the port that was called Ratchet. Even though he heard many tales of this small port town that held a trade and a good seaworthy way of traveling over the great salty waters, he was glad they were able to take a portal…

The strange buildings emerging in a rather unorganised way when he tried to look at what lay ahead of him. From this far away he could not see it properly. He whipped his brow, it was hot here, really hot. He wasn't the only one having trouble adjusting to that heat.

"I forgot how much I hated this place," Snowy stood next to him, the corners of her mouth pulled down as her dark blue lipstick seemed to match her ice cold stare at Jatfast when she saw how happy the rogue was to see the port town again. "Ratchet is lovely!" He countered her, looking straight at her in a daring way.

"**Shut your yap Jatfast, nobody asked you!"** Snowy wiped her forehead with a strangely coloured handkerchief that she pulled out off the side of her pocket. The thing was pink with purple polka dots in an uneven pattern. The round decoration sized from large to very small.

"Damn, I forgot how ridiculously hot it was here," she muttered loudly. From where the sun stood in the sky she could tell it was somewhere around mid-afternoon, and probably the hottest hours around, as she could see the ground sizzle form it when she looked down again. Jonas snickered. "Yes, I warned you about that," The monotonous voice of Jonas was salted with a heavy hint of sarcasm when the forsaken set his booted foot on the dry ground. It caused a flock of dust to spread out from under his toes. Snowy glared angrily at him when it came her way and she had to cough loudly, after that she sneezed exaggerated.

"**Will you stop that**!" she growled at him when he did it again for the pure amusement of reminding himself how utterly annoyed Snowy could be about such small things. "**Maybe you should have been more specific in _HOW_ hot it was here, Jonas! Instead of saying it was…just hot**! I cannot believe my twin sister prefers this to the gloomy atmosphere of Brill and Undercity! How will she look? Wrinkled? And you Jonas Dredgewood! How can you not melt away spontaneously here? Your rotting process will probably accelerate sky-high when you're here too long," she sneered at the forsaken man.

The man looked at her from under his hat. His yellow glowing eyes scanning her, his wicked grin could be heard from behind his scarf. It only annoyed the goblin female more he seemed to take delight in her misery.

"Maybe Adinna can embalm him for you?" Suggested Jatfast jovial as he nodded at Jonas. Hs fingers wrapped around the large backpack, jingling of the coins with every step he looked at him even angrier then she had done at Jonas when she heard him speak the name of her niece. "You keep your big mouth shut Jatfast! And I am not ASKING again! Next time I will hit you straight in the face with my fist…like I should have done when I found you peeping in the bushes," she gritted her sharp goblin teeth as she held up her fist at him in a threatening way. Most of her fingers were decorated with rings that reflected the sunlight in them.

"I never should have come! I could have known you had something to do with this trip, I would have never agreed to let Jonas use a portal. I'm losing big profit over this stupid visit!" Here she grumbled again. Snapping around her with those blue lipsticked lips of hers. And nobody seemed to be bothered enough by that to tell her to shut up herself for once. Instead Jatfast smirked, saying: "Yeah?" As his eyes greedily lurked back at the backpack of money on his belly:"Mine isn't. And I doubt you will regret this trip anyway, if you get to see your sisters and Adinna again," he grinned rather amused at her, one corner pulling up in a semi wicked grin.

Adinna, another hopeless cause according to Jeri. She heaved up her hands as if something spectaculair was about to happen when she called out the name. "Adinna! Adinna! Why she never came to work for me is still a mystery, she should have known better with her obsessive compulsive need to cut into things! Snowy was more than grumpy when she took her handkerchief again and dabbed at her forehead. Jonas merely shrugged, glad he did not have to deal with more family members if he did not have to. Yet he could not resist when he looked at his employer, pulling the scarf from his mouth down, flocking the air with dead skin of his left hand.

"Oh, it will be a memorial reunion between you, Jeri, and most likely any other relative connected in some way or another. Explosive to the core this party ... I cannot wait," Jonas muttered cynically.

"**Can you all please stop arguing**?" Everyone suddenly looked at the elf. He had not opened his mouth ever since they settled for the trip. Now he did, this young man in his leather smith apron and his worn black leather pants. The hammer at his side in a loop on his belt. He looked straight at the ground, his gaze averted when it suddenly became very quiet in the group, knowing he had their full attention. His hands were nervous. Jatfast could tell when he saw he put one in his neck, rubbing the skin while trying to relax. His neck tensed when he felt the joints creaked loudly when he moved his face from left to right.

"Nervous boy?" Jatfast clapped him in a good-natured way on his shoulder. While he had to stand on his toes to do so, the rogue seemed to be in a very easy going mood today. Very different from when he was in Undercity. So he meant well. Rotharian merely nodded, solemnly. His gesture saying more than he could have with words. Jatfast suddenly saw how very clearly the young man resembled Riselle. The long dark brown hair in a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. The shape of his eyes, how he stood, his way of talking, the gestures the young man made. Where Riselle tapped her fingers together when she was nervous, Rotharian rubbed his neck. It was something Jatfast had already seen when he had observed the younger man a little better.

Their journey to Ratchet had been luxury. Not only because he had to return home anyway, but also because he saw a plan for this young blacksmith. And maybe, just this once, he could show he was not always the bastard.

After Jatfast came out of his shock Rotharian had approached him with a certain caution, not trying to shock him again. But he had to know. Told him what he had heard him say in his dream. And that he had called her name. Which was, according to Jatfast, not possible, why would he say Riselle?

When the goblin looked rather disturbed he had talked during his sleep he shrugged after that. It gave Rotharian the chance to ask more. So Jatfast told most of his tale. He could tell that she was safely in Ratchet, that she was doing alright, that she was being cared for, fed. Most of all that she was alive and was among his friends and why she was there. The young man suddenly broke. The tough strong man shot full of emotion when he heard his sister had fallen into the chaos that kept her in Ratchet. That she was alive was such a relief for Roth.

Jonas had to give him leave when he asked for it. The forsaken blacksmith sent Roth away immediately to pack when he asked his mentor for permission. Jatfast witnessing a strange brotherhood among forsaken towards the elf. Oddly enough Jonas did not even object. As if they all knew?

The only thing that Jonas did was rummage through his collection of knives, daggers and short swords, grabbing some that seemed interesting and packed a few in his bag, most likely to sell in Ratchet. What triggered Jatfast his curiosity was the moment he saw Jonas snatch one of the blades with the butterfly motive in the handle from Rotharians work space, sticking it behind his belt as he walked off with it.

He never said a thing, nor did Rotharian seem to mind the forsaken had done. It made Jatfast greedy to know what exactly the protogé and the forsaken had made for deal. It only made Jatfast watch the young man up close. Observing him to find out more it also gave him opertunities to chat a little with the elf, fixing the curious attitude of the male about his sisters wellbeing. That Rotharian was nothing like Hurias, Jatfast knew quick enough. The young blacksmith could not believe it when Jatfast told him about Riselle. Everything fitted. The descriptions he gave of her armour. Jatfast's way of telling came in a quite fascinating way, as he kept talking about Riselle with twinkling eyes. Only when he stopped he caught the curious raised brow of the older brother at him.

That older brother also had a certain protective attitude lingering about him when his sister was the subject of the conversation. Another thing Jatfast noticed. It made him grin as he flashed him a toothy grin. "What, she's a pleasant…ehm...person," was his answer to that. Roth merely nodded, nothing more, no smile. His green eyes fixed on the goblin when Jatfast continued to describe in full detail how her jade plate looked on her. Rotharian raised his hands up after that. He knew enough. He did not need to hear the shapely description from a sleazy looking goblin about his younger sister.

Everything went rather quick after that. Jonas worked Snowy to get access to a quick portal. Jatfast made sure he cared about the young man and his backpack with money that he so greedily nursed like a mother would do her baby. Occasionally jingling the coins as he cooed at the bag of money, patted the top of the backpack. As if that helped. His other 'plan' never leaving his sight.

What the rogue left out to mention to the young man, or to the rest, was his little plan with Rotharian. And if Jonas would not become nosy, he might succeed. It would Jeri against Jonas, knowing how that could collide he hoped for Jeri's stubborn greedy personality when she wanted something. Ironically in the end it was not Jonas that became a threat to his plan, but more the evil twin sister to his wife.

His plan was a sly one. It would help him back to being wanted and admired by his wife in one go as well as the options of new favours, deals and foremost... liked money. The sound, the smell, the bling...Jeri loved money. And Jeri loved him as much as he could make himself worth her while. For that he needed Jeri to see him - this young man- in order to see what Jatfast saw. Jeri was easily smitten by looks and this young man had a posture to him very unlike was muculair, Roth walked around with no shirt if he worked the smithy. Not only because his sister was Riselle made this plan have so much potential, as Jatfast had urged him to come along to see his sister, working the young mans emtional misfortune of giving him hope. He also needed the elf to freely travel to Ratchet. And as Rotharian had potential to make things with fairly easy gathered materials and turn it into a beautiful objects, he had to show to the elf what he could do in Ratchet with the right connections. Of course Jonas would never agree, so if Jeri could see what Jatfast had in mind, then she would snatch him up within seconds. Leaving him to let his wife deal with the forsaken and worj out some fantastic deal to get her way, simply because Jeri would get all excited about another pretty elf boy if only because his looks were the dark version of that of the blond Hurias. With Rotharian's creative spirit and the way he displayed himself, Jatfast figured Jeri might be flabbergasted for once. With that he would come back again in her favour he knew!

The only problem was that Snowy came along. She decided at the very last minute that she wanted to come along. To his annoyance. Mostly because she formed the new thread for his sneaky little plan. If she managed to distrcact Jeri then his wife would not see what he wanted to show her. And if Snowy looked close enough she would rip him in half. But that was something he would deal with on the spot. If he had to he would openly admit to her he had been peeping when they shot Miss Jades pictures in the jungle.

The portal vanishes behind them, leaving them to stand in the middle of the road. Thrown into the instant heat of the Barrens. They were at the beginning of the port town again. Jatfast took in a mix of salty air, combined with a feign rotting smell, mixed with that of gun powder and maybe even of burned food. There were many more smells in the air, it smelled like home. And he felt his heart yearn for his wife. She had to forgive him….

"Come on, let's not wait," he said optimistically, his arms around the bag with money while he took the lead.

It was not that far, his firm steps took them in a pace that would walk them through the boundaries of Ratchet within half an hour. He knew that as all they had to do was walk down the road that curved itself a path through the dry yellow grass stretched to the sides. A group of Gazelles ran through an open plain between two hills. For once Jatfast enjoyed the scenery.

The rest followed him, Snowy bickering with Jonas about why she came here and that he should have stopped her. Rotharian in silence.

When they finally arrived in town, it was a busy beehive of every possible race in Azeroth. Jastfast grinned when he set foot among the crowd. When he met one acquaintance after another he got a kick against his knee from Snowy. "STOP POSPONING THE INEVATABLE!" she screamed in his ear. It made Jonas chuckle mildly in his dark tone. Jatfast lead them through the town, up the strange steep path that curved up to the row of houses at the back. From here he could see the workshop, it windows still broken, the outside half destroyed after last explosion. He wondered if another explosion had taken place during his absence. Nobody seemed alarmed when he passed, meaning most likely nobody was worried over Zanak and his frequent urge to use his engineering in new inventions. Else he would have heard it by now. The workshop seemed abandoned when he passed it.

He smiled widely when he finally saw the small house that was Greymurs doom up ahead. He stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder as he beckoned Rotharian to move closer. "There my friend, there is where your sister has been living for the past few months," he sounded so much at ease. Rotharian so nervous when the goblin pointed out the place.

There sat two figured in front of the open doorway. Leaning against the side of the building in the shade. One blond haired, one green. "Do you see what I see?" Hurias poked Suarez in his side. The mage opened a lazy eye as he unfolded his hands from under his head. "What's there to see, pretty boy," he wondered, looking into the direction Hurias nodded in.

Hurias blinked to look again. He recognised that sleazy looking goblin from miles away. "Jeri!" his voice sounded stressed for a moment. There was no reply.

"**JER**I!" Hurias called out louder for the goblin female. He got up from his sitting position, standing up as the mage followed his example. "Is that Jatfast?" He grinned, throwing back the hood of his robes to see better. "**JERI! You might want to see this**!" He called into the open doorway again.

"Yeah that looks like Jatfasts ugly face, and if my eyes do not deceive me Jonas, Snowy and...Roth?" Suarez laughed louder, almost hysterical seeing the white haired version of Jeri follow behind Jatfast as they came closer.

"How the hell did he do that? The bastard must have arranged himself a favour if he took Snowy, Jonas and Rotharian with him, portal no doubt," the mage muttered, scratching his beard a little."Jeri!" Hurias his annoyed sigh made the mage shus the elf. "Let me," he said with a snort and a weird grin to him.

"**JERI! Jatfast is back**!" Suarez yelled louder than Hurias could have. The elf grinned slightly when the mage took over. Yelling from the top of his lungs when she finally came out with a muttering response. Her "**Whaaaaaaa-**"was silenced in mid-air when she froze in the middle of her annoyed footsteps. She could not believe her eyes when none other than her own Jatfast came walking up the path to Greymurs house. The rogue stopped his pace right in front of them. He looked like a proud peacock with his head high and his arms still folded around his backpack the way he stood there.

"Oi! Pretty lady! How is my beautiful wife?" He waved a casual hand at her, quickly wrapping it back over the backpack. Jeri's lower lip trembled when she saw him. Her eyes darting from Jatfast to Hurias and Suarez who both folded their shoulders. She quickly straightened her back, instantly going into obnoxious modus.

"**Jatfast Fastfingers! How dare you show your ugly mug….where have you been**?" She was ready to scold him, ready to drag him through every pile of shit she could come up with. Ready to hit him a broken nose. Forgotten was the moment she promised herself and Jewels she forgave him. Forgotten was the moment where she cried herself to sleep the nights he was not home. Oh how she wished to whack him over the head with a firm fist, to pull him by his ears and shake him until his bones rattled like the coins jingled in their money-bedroom-pouch. Jeri clenches her left hand into a fist, preparing herself to give him a blow he would not easily forget, when she was distracted by something else.

"JERI? Oh my word…look at you!" Snowy jumped forwards, leaping forwards to tackle her twin sister in a hug that was totally unexpected. They rolled over the dusty floor, Jeri on top of Snowy, squealing like two mad woman fighting over the last sale item at the market. Their voices pitch high noises to everybody around them, none could hear what they were saying. Her arms wrapped around her twin sister, her eyes twinkling like gold.

"What is all this noise?" Greymur came pacing out suddenly, his mood instantly noticeable. Jatfast grinned when he discovered the grey orc. "Greymur! I am back, and I brought some friends," the orc looked wild when he saw the gathering in front of his house. His jaw almost dropping when he saw the tree others. The forsaken, the scene between Jeri and her sister, Jatfast…then he blinked for the young man that appeared next to the forsaken.

When he saw the long dark brown hair as the owner turned to face him, Greymur swallowed. He instantly wanting to growl at her, raising his finger like he usually did to show her how angry he was. But it was not her...

The pair of keen green eyes that stared back at him belonged to a young man…not to Riselle. The man stared at the grey orc, fearful perhaps though he did not show it. Nervous? His eyes scanning around, seeking. His grin shy as he saw the orc was suddenly off in his response. Greymurs darkened gaze stared….this was not Riselle…but he looked awfully much like her…

The hunter seemed confused. To that Jonas jumped in. "Hello Greymur, we meet again," the forsaken made an exaggerated gesture as he bowed, trying to lure the orcs attention his way by taking his hat off for the orc. "Jonas…," Greymurs voice trailed to a hoarse grunt. His teeth gritting, jaws clenched together.

"Meet my protégé, Rotharian," Greymur stared at the blood elf male…Rotharian, the word triggered a conversation he held with Riselle not long ago. "The brother," the muscles in his jaw trembled as he kept staring. Jonas nodded. "Yes, it is all a bit chaotic," Jonas noted.

"Big Grey! Where is Ris anyway? Is she hiding again?" Jatfast did not pay attention to the two chattering females close to him. He looked behind Greymur, half expecting Rena to dart out, maybe followed by Riselle. Instead a solemn and stern looking Asalt came out, chewing his gum. Followed by Zanak...

Now it was Jatfast's turn to frown, something was strangely off here…

* * *

><p>Riselle felt the dried up blood to her side cake against her skin. The firm hand cupping her chin did not let her move her head when the wet cloth dapped at her eye. She flinched. She could not open it. "You should learn to obey," he said to her, sounding as if he advised her on something she held no knowledge about. His voice calm again. She grit her teeth when he turned her head sideways.<p>

"Hmm, that must hurt," she could hear him grin rather wicked when he ran a finger over the side of her ear where he had pierced the skin. She could see him grin now he turned her head so she could see him with the eye that was not hit to a pulping mass of bruises. She snorted. "Why would I even consider doing that…,your mother wants me dead," she dared to say to him. His grin disappeared, making way for an angry face. His hand trembled, she could see it when he wringed out the cloth in the bowl of now pink water.

"Oh, but you should Riselle, you should…you are worth more alive than dead," he clapped her gently to the side of her cheek, as if he patted a pet. She shivered under his touch, it made him smirk again, knowing he had that effect on her.

"Did you know Asathar has died?" He continued, making slow strokes over the bruised spots, pressing a little too hard to get a response from her when she did not answer him. He caused her to stop breathing for a moment with that news. Her mouth opening slightly to say something, her heart skipped a beat in a bad way when he nodded at her to confirm he said it and that she was not dreaming.

"No…," she stared at him. He nodded, pressing his fingers in her jaw as she yelped in pain when he did. "Very dead, as in…diseased. All…thanks…to….you!" he tapped her chin with each word with the pointy nail as he scratches her skin a little to the side. That half wicked grin spreading across his lips to a full one. It gave him a nastier expression then she had ever seen from him.

"**Liar**!" she tried to spit at him again. "Oh no, Riselle, no spiting!" He instantly grabbed her by her throat, squeezing it shut as she pulled at her cuffs. The chain rattles against the wall when the ship hit a high wave and the whole room seemed too heavy halfway to the left. The bowl falling from his lap as the content splashed over the wooden floorboards, spreading out the pinkish water to be sucked up by the carpet. The cloth ending somewhere in the middle of the room. She felt nausea suddenly. Lohurin held a firm grip on her throat, holding on tightly to the bedside as she nearly rolled over the side of it, a firm painful yank to her wrists when she could roll no further. Restricted by the chains.

He chuckled, his grip still there, not enough to choke her, but making it hard to breath.

When the boat seemed to retreat to calmer water he leaned closer to her. His tongue licking her cheek as he laughed for her disgusted look.

"Do you know how he died? Because mother made him chase….you…," he said it in a casual tone. Poking her in the chest. As if it was normal his brother had died like that. "She does not know I helped him a little. I broke two of his crystals to siphon from the night he died, before mother performed the very ritual that was supposed to save his life. Your son was to star in that ritual…as a vessel mother called it. If Asathar had not disturbed it himself he would not have died…," she choked for a moment, coughing when he grabbed her firmer, making her wheeze for air. Then he let go, looking down on her as she inhaled for air deeply. He shook his head in a pitiful way.

"Mother thinks I am ignorant of her little ritual and its purpose. But I know more than she thinks. I know why she wanted our bastard," he grinned.

Riselle tried to control herself, how he loved the way she struggled. This was wonderful torement he found, quite amusing when he watched her. The woman coughed, clearing her throat. "She could have picked anybody," her whole person looked stubborn, even after he choked her half, with her severely beaten face she managed to still look cocky at him. He did not like that. It made him want to slap her in the face again, if only to show her who was in charge.

"Surely you realised why, stupid girl…it works best with on the next of kin. One of her own bloodline…your bastard! Well ours…you seem to be the only case right now that was 'productive' as you had a bastard son from me. Simple reason why he was 'chosen' for this purpose was to host Asathar a new body!" Riselle stared at him in disbelieve.

"Once my mother sets her head to something, there is no talking her out of it," he agreed when she kept staring, he could almost read the response in her eyes, disbelieve he called it in his head. Her eyes teared, he could see she tried to hold back. So he fed her some more sorrow.

"Of course you, Riselle, of all people, will understand the value of honour and the price that comes with a title. As you got blocked from you precious holy light," She looked up at him, to him it was all a joke! He grinned to confirm that.

The painful moment when his mother performed a spell that permanently damage her manapool and then blocked her from any use of holy light was still fresh, even after almost a year. Making her unable to perform any spell, use any form of healing abilities. After that it was only a matter of time to hear the gossip of the female paladin that fell down, an outcast to the academy, shunned by society. It all made sense…and he smirked for that knowledge. Making his hand go through his hair. As if it needed adjusting.

His keen green eyes fixed on her open eye when he found she added one and one together.

"Painful, isn't it, to realise that y ou could have solved it with so much ease, Riselle. Well, be thankful you and the boy are still alive. You gave us quite the hunt, I like that in you," he patted her head in a soothing way, resting his finger through her long dark silken hair. He could see the tear roll from the corner of her eye when she remained silent. The broken lips trembling as she pursed them together. He placed a kiss on the broken lips. She did not even pull away in disgust. Shame, he could have used it to his advantage. Insteas he gloated in her sorrow.

"That is right…you never stood a chance," he added more to that misery, feeding it slowly to her, adding to his own amusement. As he gave her a shushing soothing look, casting his eyes over her slim figure, resting on her now flat stomach again. He wondered what she had looked like in the last months of her pregnancy. How he would have loved to hurt her just enough to ease his urges. But she was not there. Maybe next time...

She exhaled sharply, heaving her chest up and down as she tried to regain herself from the humiliation he tried to dip her in.

"You will NEVER have Izoreas!" She finally whispered, if only to show him she still had a small fire in her left. He tilted his head to her, that same pitiful expression followed by a shake of his head. "Oh…did they not tell you? Of course they did not. How could they. Let me enlighten you with the good news you are about to be reunited with our son...," he grinned. Riselles face turned pale. "Thallen would never," she whispered, her voice dry. "Oh, he did. And he if he is safely locked in the prisons underneath our mansion!" he seemed very cheerful continuing to torture her.

"They caught Thallen Shadowborn with a baby boy after being tipped…he was meeting your parents…or rather, your mother in Fairbreeze Village…with Izoreas, yes?" He sat himself down on the bed, softly stroking her hair now, gently letting his fingers travel down to the base of her neck while he waited for her response.

She turned paler, almost sickenly white. The content of her stomach suddenly swirling as the boat heaved up with another sudden wave, making her puke it all out over herself and the bed. The vomit spluttering over the blankets and her shirt. He simply watched in delight as he saw her throw up. Moving slightly to avoid any coming his way.

"Our bastard son is safely waiting in the summer mansion…within four days you will see him…oh no, wait, mother will not want you to touch him. As you will not nurse him, she will feed him, grow him and form him," he laughed, harsh. His fingers grabbing her hair in a fist as he twisted it around his wrist. Turning her head so she had to face him, nearly choking on her own vomit as she was forced to look his way.

"Not to worry. I'm sure we can make another. I do not have to worry about your wellbeing, not unless you are pregnant. I do have to for Anayis her sake. Can't show her uncle I mistreat my own dear wife," his eyes gleamed dark for a moment. He took the cloth from the floor he used earlier to wipe the vomit from her face.

"Tssk, Riselle, you should learn to take better care of yourself, now I have to do it again," he muttered at her. Scolding her for things she could not even help.

She stared at him again, her heart heavy, her lower lip trembling as she felt herself sink into a numb state after this news. She could hardly hear him speak as his voice became this annoying buss in her head. She closed her good eye, crying, sobbing. Not wanting to keep herself together anymore. So tired...

He simply smiled for his achievement. How he loved to see her so miserable.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: Miserable promise**

The four days passed for her without knowing whether it was day or night. What it did do was break her, finally taken its toll on the woman that had been locked away for so long in the cabin. Letting Lohurin take full advantage of every moment he wanted.

"Sir, we reached out final destination!" the knock on the door disturbed the young Champion with a growl when he woke. Groggy in his head when he rose and they knocked again. "Champion Whitemorn?" the voice from behind the wooden door came. Lohurin grumbles in anger when he realised what this meant. "YES YES! I heard you the first time, make ready, I will be there soon," he said. It became quiet again after that. He could feel the ship quietly take a turn to be guided into the port in which it would have fulfilled its final destination. The loud thud and the tremble going through the whole ship letting them know it docked.

He looked beside him, grinning slightly over the small frame of the woman lying in her uncomfortable position. "You hear that, Ris? You'll be reunited with the family soon." He said sarcastically.

Only that thought after the many the days of sickening waves and other nasty moments gave her a moment to breath, knowing she was far from done when meeting his family.

"Mother will probably be angry when she sees you, very angry. If not for your person, then for the fact you crossed her path the wrong moment," he seemed pleased with that idea.

"Besides, you're not a very good example as a parent are you Riselle? Look at you? You cannot even keep your own hygiene," he laughed, amused. That damn smirk on his handsome face, the fake caring expression in his eyes as he replaced it with this blazing look of hate. The intense look he gave her lit up his eyes in a brighter green than before when he spoke again: "I will keep myself temporarily aside, as to not disturb the family reunion," his smile did not reach his eyes. After that he slit out of bed, moving to the table. There a bottle of soap, a towel, a bottle of water, a small hand mirror stood waiting together with a bowl that held a clean washing cloth and his razor.

Yesterday night he took precaution, knowing already they would likely reach the port soon after speaking to the captain of the ship. It made him lay out his clear clothes and all the attributed needed to appear clean, shaven, well dressed, handsome and very ready when he would present his prize to his mother.

As he takes out his razor and the cloth, he pours a small amount of water in the bowl. Taking the soapy content of the bottle in his palm to smear over his chin as it starts foaming. The small hand mirror places against the side of the towel, him leaning over to see where to shave himself. When he is done with the struggle of getting himself smoothly faces with only a patch of goatee to his chin, Lohurin washes his face. Resting the razor in the bowl as it makes a soft metal noise to the stone edge of the ceramic round item.

"Hmm, yes, I think mother will approve of me like this," he says, nodding to his own smug reflexion in the hand mirror approvingly, checking his clean-shaven face a second time. At least his mother could not say that he had not taken care of himself in any case. Undressing from his old garb he carelessly piles it on the floor, taking his clean shirt as he buttons himself up and straightened his back, as if he had all the time in the world.

He then looks back to Riselle. His voice sounds steady when he speaks."You must be thrilled to see the mansion again, especially where you are staying!" The chuckling sound obvious irony. She does not answer him. Which only makes him pleased and more room to mock her with.

"Oh, how silly of me, of course you are not," he says, squeezing his eyes shut, running a hand over his jaw, feeling the length of his sideburns. "But you have not answered me yet Riselle. You ought to learn to respond properly when they ask you something woman. Can or can I not present myself to mother like this, Riselle?" She remains silent. He merely shrugs at her. "Did you ever wonder if I would have been forced to marry you instead of Anayis? My brother would have hated me even more for that. Did you know he had a soft spot for you? I think he actually was genuine when he spoke of you with honour and how beautiful you were in his eyes, Riselle. Not much left of that now is there?" He seems very amused when he looks her over.

"Do you think he would have given us his blessing?" He looks down at her again, really down, then smirks harshly. "Of course he would never have approved of us, nobody did. Because you are worth…nothing, not as a parent to our bastard son, you give nothing to my family name but burden, nothing honour full to your own family, not to those in Ratchet I stole you from. Or else they would have come after us. You see my little lioness, nobody will mourn your death…. And now you are nothing more but a filthy whore, like you were the night you let yourself be concurred by a weary elf that told you his life story and eventually bedded you after being a little drunk, some honour you hold," he chuckled, then he wrinkled his nose at her. She reeks of vomit, urine, sweat and other inconvenienced bodily fluids, smeared out over her body and in her hair.

"Ah, silent as ever, I will grand you that at least to be the only plus for your person, that you know when to shut up," his tone more than mean when he speaks so easily. All she can do is look at him from between the faintly healing cracks of her eyes, bruises upon bruises. With a dry rattle she clears her throat... a pain to spare her saliva, waiting for him to come closer….then spits him right on his clothes. One last fight, a light spunk of fire dying out when she felt her sore throat burn.

He looks anything but happy when the spatters ended up on his clean shirt. "What a pity, Ris, you're still making this look so ugly the way I treated you. I would have thought that you had understood our positions by now. But I see that your orc might have had more bad influence to your manners then I feared. Much more bad influence, you know I will punish such behaviour. Because we will have to work on that attitude," she wants to cry out loud, but can't. He knows. As that is one more tormenting way to annoy her, to make it sound compassionate in answering her fight. Knowing she has nothing to fight for.

With that he turns and walks away to the door, out of her sight. She can only hear him open the creaking door and speak in a muffled tone to somebody.

With sequentially clamped jaws she feels her limbs shaking from fatigue. Powerless and mostly hopeless of knowing it was far from over yet.

When the four men come in there was a nasty formal atmosphere. If the personal guard of house Whitemorn already showed emotions than they did not show them now. The Captain however, was different in his approach. Something that annoyed Lohurin when the man stepped into the cabin, announcing himself as he saluted. Adorned in the attire of house Whitemorn looking extremely good on the broad tall man. Something Lohurin was not.

The guards behind the Captain remained clean from any emotions, also when the tension between the Captain and the Champion practically filled up the room. Besides the Captain himself, it was mostly Lohurin who felt he needed to make sure everybody knew his place. He walked around the man with a displeased look, tapping the edge of the tabard that seemed torn. "My mother will not like seeing the name of our house used in vain when I see torn or shredded tabard, Captain," he said. The Captain merely raised an eyebrows at that, not impressed by the son.

When he looked at the bed he felt is lips pull down. Lightly shaking his head, an open way of giving his disapproving agreement here when he got sight of Riselle. He was wise enough not to comment though. Nothing to provoke Lohurin.

The Champion was far from happy to see the sudden appearance of the Captain. "When did you arrive anyway? You were not there when we caught her," he remembered. The Captain stood firm as he shook his head again. "I boarded just before we left, my Lord. It seemed you were too busy to speak with me then, so I felt it not necessary to disturb you," his expression countered that statement when he saw the female.

"I see. Of course mother made sure to send _you_ along with my personal guard, Captain," his nasty response making the Captain stare at the smaller male. "Lord Whitemorn, I would hate to disappoint the lady Whitermorn. I was merely taking orders. And I was ordered to travel to your personal guard and travel along. We all know your mother hates delays," Lohurin looked the man over. "Then I take it you have not met the woman we have been hunting for so long, Captain? Of course not. As you were not part of the group that took her prisoner," Lohurin sneered.

The Captain said nothing as he took off his helmet, staring at the half naked woman on the bed. Lohurin snorted to see the hairstyle the man had to him. Long strips of dark hair braided backwards in a tight pattern over his skull, ending in a low wrapped leather string that was weaved in a thicker braid that hung down his back.

"Maybe for the better. You can take her away, Captain. I am sure I can leave it in your capable hands to report to my mother that we found her like this. As your guards will all state that," the youngest Whitemorn son said. The Captain did not respond to that, not letting himself be provoked by the obvious ill attempt of the youngest son to get him into trouble.

"You can rest assured that I will make it my personal goal to get this arranged to the very last detail, Lord Whitemorn," he promised solemnly.

"Fine, fine, spare me your hypocritical efforts in remaining civilized to me, Captain. I know my mother sent you to keep an eye on me. It seems you are a tad too late to confirm her suspicion. Leaving it in my advantage. As you cannot prove what I did, thus leaving her with NO reason to punish me for the state I hand her Riselle," he smirked.

Riselle, the Captain memorized the name as he looked to the woman again. Dark hair spilled out across the sleeping area.

Riselle could hear the stress in Lohurins voice when he spoke. "Indeed I cannot," the Captain stated formally. His eyes darkening. "I shall make it my personal goal to escort the prisoner to the cell she will be given in wait for her trial. Though I will need the keys, _my Lord Whitemorn_," said the Captain in a resounding tone, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. His eyes telling another story when he looked at the man and back to the female on the bed again. The Captain closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing his open disgust as he hid himself behind a formal mask again. The dull green in his eyes clearly disapproving of what he saw. One too many times…

Lohurin smiled briefly at the Captain of his personal guard. "Of course," he said.

"And Captain, you do realise that anything in this room remains secret as you have sworn a personal oath to me and my house," he reminded the Captain. The tall male blood elf only nodded, he remembered. His strange braided hair making his stern expression matching the rest of his men. Even so the Captain stuck out half a head taller than the rest of them. Tall and well build he was, carrying his armour with a certain grace to his personality as well. Making the haircut not look half as ridiculous as he wished. Lohurin muttered something under his breath of his mother favouring certain individuals in a wrong way.

The Captain pretended he did not hear the lament of anger thrown his way in hateful words. "You are so promising, Captain," Lohurin uttered. As the Captain looked very unlike the rest of this guard, not blond with the long hair, not equally sized in person and very bold in his ways. Lohurin knew the man held potential, was a fighter and did not make a Captains rank for nothing. Yet it annoyed him greatly to see his Captain openly disapprove of what occurred in the room. But more to know he was one of his mother's favourites. He wondered if she ever bedded him. The mere thought of that made him shiver. In his eyes the man could prove to be a problem, he figured. Though that was a worry for later.

"Lord Whitemorn, I took the liberty of sending word to the house to provide us with an escort and mounts," mentioned the Captain, pulling him from the dark slumber of murder thoughts on how to get rid of this man.

"In this country, Captain, I am not the Lord Whitemorn but Lohurin Whitemorn, one of Silvermoons Champions," he corrected the man. The Captain flared his nostrils in a mocking gesture. A small hint of what he thought, then he saluted respectfully. Given that he did not wish to make amok right now.

Riselle could see him move through the slits of her eyes.

"I hope you realise that a minor mistake can have great consequences, Captain?" Lohurin tried to sound refined. Like Asathar would have sounded. His attempt a futile one. The Captain did not counter him on his rank. "Of course not, pardon me, Champion Whitemorn, I was merely following orders. And I was told to let you know that everything was arranged, as your mother ordered," the man explained with the calm attitude Lohurin lacked by far.

"You are indeed a worthy asset to our guard, Captain. Perhaps I should speak to my mother about a promotion…when we have returned to the mansion," as if that promise were ever true, Lohurin grinned when he threw the key chain to the Captain. "Very good," he said, approving as if the Captain performed a trick like a trained monkey, watching as the Captain caught the keys with accurate precision.

"Now, bring her down when we get to the summer mansion," Lohurin just turned on the heels of his boots, and his footsteps fainting as he walked on deck. The Captain saluted after he caught the keys. When the Whitemorn son was gone he unlocked the shackles from her wrists. They all wrinkled their nose for the scent she gave when they came closer. Their faces stern and non-compassionated when the Captain ordered them to lift her with certain care. They did not listen to his order. She moaned painfully as she was grabbed roughly under her arms and suddenly sat up. Something she had not done for a long time.

Her arms fell limp to her sides, there was no more strength in them. Her wrists a concatenated mass of fainting bruises on damaged skin. Fingers swollen from poor circulation and the restrained that was put upon her by the shackles. Impossible to smoothly move her wrists now. The skin broken and raw. The shortage of decent food and especially the dehydration showing on her.

Everything was so painful that she almost cried when they pulled her up. Forced and tortured by Lohurin, this was the end result.

The man looked at her briefly. Shaking his head again to the woman. "You're awfully lucky to be alive, you know that? Though I am not sure it is for the better," he said as he looked at her, almost pityingly. Bite marks on her breasts and arms gave him a good impression of what had happened here. He had seen it before. Though the others had not been so lucky. He hated his job when he was called out to 'clean up' or rather when he was the one given the order to execute.

The young Champion had gone full out against this woman. Everything his mother had forbidden him probably happened here. The Captain wondered if it was worth all of it. Unabashedly nobody had disturbed him during the journey at sea, as Lohurin had made sure people knew the punishment for doing so. Somewhere it shamed him to the very core of his bones to see why he was here, but mostly to realise he was not in time to make sure the young man was under control. Other than that the Captain did not seem to care much if it would cause his own death.

Riselle said no more. Her throat dry, no strength in her legs. No more fighting spirit, no urge to survive. She volunteered to be take. The captain kept his men standing for a moment.

Unclipping his red cloak. The heavy fabric warm and yet cool when he draped it around her. "A little respect," he said in a whisper to her, then nodding to his men to let them proceed.

* * *

><p>"So ...a brother? I did not know she had a brother," Hurias poured a dark goo from the can into the mugs on the tray. He glanced briefly at Rotharian. The blonde elf poured all mugs with equal amounts of dark liquid. "Do you want milk with that?" He inquired as he looked at the dark-haired man. The elf shook his head with a concerned expression. "Black is fine," Rotharian's voice was cautious, tired, stressed. Hurias shoved the mug to the elf while he tended to the other. Suarez grabbed one as he greedily drank from the coffee.<p>

"Greymur? Coffee?" Hurias wanted to know. There was no response from the grey orc, far too busy with tending to the wolf.

"We do," said Jeri and Snowy simultaneously. They sounded identical when they came walking down the stairs. They even looked identically with the matched clothed. Clearly family.

By then everybody that stayed the night at Greymurs house gathered in the kitchen. Everyone was broke from the long night deprived of proper sleep. Packed together in his small house it had been a jolly gathering. With laughter despite the situation, it was needed. Puzzling the pieces together to get to the big story on the table.

"Is there anything to eat?" Jatfast inquired far too cheerful, almost unsubtle when he stretched a little too exuberant in his way. I am so glad to be back home!" he mused, giving Jeri a wink. She gave him a sore look of disgust. "I am not done with you yet, Jatfast Fastfingers!" she told him. Jatfast gave her a miserable look as he had not managed to win her over yet. He would in the end, or so he hoped. Jeri just needed to see that pile of gold!

Hurias shrugged and pushed the mugs into people's directions. "Adinna will come up later today," Jeri chirped instead, ignoring her husband deliberately.

Rotharian silently drank from his coffee mug. He had been silent in this large company, holding his thought to himself. Quietly as possible, especially with the grey orc around seeming to be angered so easily this early in the morning. The rest, strangely to him, seemed completely relaxed in this rather brutal -looking appearance of an orc. Rotharian had been watching from his place at the table. But to say something he had not dared yet.

"Hurias, hand me the rum," Greymur's voice sounded heavy, raw, especially tired. His normal grey colour now an ash colour, probably because of the stress and sleepless nights. The man had bloodshot eyes when he looked at the group gathered at his table. Hurias did what was asked without grumbling. "Did you say Adinna would come around? Ask her if she takes bandages," he said as he took the rum from the elf hand, turned back to take care of Rena. The large wolf whining softly when he kneeled beside her. "Come on girl," Greymur said as calmly as possible. Pouring the rum in a flat bowl, offering it to her to drink from. Her tongue lapped it up. Every time she moved she howled, he made sure he waited until the pain had subsided before starting to tend her wounds further.

The wolf seemed to look dazzled after licking the run of the flat bowl. Earning her a dizzy look to her, resting her muzzle on her paw. It was probably dosing her off and easing the pain Rotharian guessed.

"Why do you not take her to a healer?" Jeri wondered. Greymur gave her an angry grunt. "Because, last time I was there they did not wish to help me because I brought in somebody with a broken nose….they told me off on bringing in a useless case like that. So I pounced their wall into pulp. After that I was no longer welcome. And that was…because you broke Riselles nose in your anger management!" He helped to remind her. Jeri actually blushed as she looked at Greymur and then to Rotharian when the name of his sister was mentioned. The dark haired male showing interest to know more, as he glanced at her over his mug.

That Greymur had threatened to break the healers' nose when he hit a hole in their wall he did not mention. "Surely Adinna can pull a few strings," Jeri mentioned. "Yes, or maybe you will on Rena's behalf," Greymur snarled at her in annoyance.

"Sure, sure, don't act as if I pulled up your pants up too high in the crack of your butt Big Grey!" She muttered, smirking at him to show she was in fact joking.

His rough voice sounded so angry when he grunted a curse under his breath. Jeri immediately held her tongue for further comment. The atmosphere in the kitchen sliding into an uncomfortable one. The goblin female turned quickly to her twin sister. Changing the subject to something that held interest to most goblins, gold, profit and deals.

"Maybe," Hurias said suddenly, his voice raising a little higher when he tried to gain everybody's attention. "Maybe we should all get out," he looked happy when he said that. His idea not bad when everyone looked at him. Hurias looked at his orc friend, his eyes sincere. Greymur said nothing.

"We have been so fortune to trespass on Greymurs hospitality and well…,"he continued, hinting to the door with a subtle nod. "Maybe we can give him some space?" He offered the solution at the right time. The whole group nodded, mumbling in agreement.

"Oh, that reminds me, pretty boy, we need to discuss something!" Jeri jumped in. Everyone understood quite well what Hurias meant. Suddenly the whole group was in a hurry to drink up their coffee. The apologies to Greymur a variety of vague things that needed to be done to legit ones such as visiting Adinna to gather more bandages. Jeri, subtle as she was, jumped up from her chair, pulled Jatfast and Snowy with her under an overwhelming useless waterfall of information about how she needed to take Snowy to see the market, and how beautiful the harbour was at this time of year. Suddenly she was busy like a bee, pushing everybody towards the door.

The bloodshot eyes of the orc looked around, the bags under his eyes dark colour then usual when he closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly pleased to see everybody was going out. Relaxing a little perhaps.

"Come, come guys," Jeri whistled between her fingers when some were not immediately ready to follow her. A menacing finger lifted with a bright purple nail polish, pointing to the men.

"Well, come on, we have a day to prepare! Jewels wants to see us too!" She said firm. With that excuse the group moved out slowly. Leaving the orc finally alone.

"Jewels …, why….fantastic," everyone heard Jonas say in his monotone sarcastic voice: "I still get to be part of the whole bloody family reunion. The only one we still miss is Sparkle," sighed the forsaken ironically while his bony fingers briefly pressed on Rotharian's shoulder. The young man looked at the forsaken. The man's yellow glowing eyes hinting toward the orc. The subtle nod that he and Rotharian exchanged enough answer for one another. Then Jonas walked out as well.

The outside noise significantly louder than what had been done inside. To volume within ear range. With that noise they could easily scare off the raptors living near the mountain slopes surrounding Ratchet. Someone shouted, wanting to know if they were complete, after that it suddenly became calm again.

Rotharian was still sitting at the table. Waiting until the silence had returned he dared to open his mouth to breath properly. The angered atmosphere was suddenly gone. You could see Greymur was relieved that they were gone. Rotharian saw how careful the orc adjusted the last bandage around Rena's wounds with everlasting patience. Then he stood up to his full height. The bottle of rum still in his hand, which he put to his mouth gulping down the remaining content of the bottle when he held his head back.

Then he stared at Rotharian. "Coffee is not strong enough for this," he grinned as he wiped the top of his big hand over his lips and walked to a cabinet in his kitchen and pulled a new bottle out. Two mugs were drawn from a higher shelf. Two thick fingers hooked behind the ears, with that he walked at a slow pace to the table. Sitting down on a chair he leaned his elbows on the table as he poured the dark liquid into mugs.

"Drink, you'll need it," he promised with a dark voice, his mug already half empty when he took a swig from it. Finally eyeing the young man properly. "Speak," he said.

Rotharian put a hand at the back of his neck, his fingers slightly nervously rubbing the vertebrae while obliquely looked at the mug and picking it up with his other hand. Greymur nodded when he noticed the nervous gesture. "You are like your sister," he said when Greymur noticed how clumsily the male put the mug to his mouth with a rapid action and took a drink. The rum too strong for his taste. He choked half when he swallowed. It caused the orc to burst out in laughter suddenly when Rotharian coughed. His roaring rolling around like a wave.

"Really, Riselle does similar actions, does it run in the family?" The atmosphere between them no longer oppressive. Rotharian grinned sheepishly, suddenly feeling the strange welcome Riselle must have felt when she resided here.

"How…how did Ris come here?" He began, and that was only the beginning of the many questions he had saved for months. His light green eyes questioning, searching for words to express what he wanted to know. The orc grinned. His eyes softening when he spoke about Riselle. "Your sister," he began. "Where do I even begin to explain you how this chaos ever started?" The hunter looked ahead of him. "I think it was you she was looking for out here when we met her," he remembered as he nodded. Seeing that first night she walked into the inn again, when they played their small game of tag-the-shiny-shit. He did not like to be reminded to that moment.

His tired eyes stared at Rotharian, observing the young man. His heart heavy when he posed Riselles smaller frame next to the brother. Their oval shaped faces also a family feature he realised. As well as the dark hair. "Let me start by telling you what she told me," he continued.

Rotharian and Greymur knew this would be a long day.

* * *

><p>"Honesty, Lohurin," the voice of Lilah Whitemorn brought chills over her tired body. She hung her head in shame. They did not chain her to the wall, but this time put her on the cold floor in the corner with new shackles on her wrists and ankles. Rustling skirts of the silk dress Lilah Whitemorn wore made her want to crawl away from the woman when the fabric touches her skin. The female approached her any away. Only her smell was enough to want to flinch. Riselle could not move.<p>

The Whitemorn matriarch bend her knees to look at Riselle. "It's really her," she heard Lohurin say.

"It's a miracle she's still alive!" His mother's voice was so cold. "The guards are sometimes rough handling a prisoners, we found her like this mostly," the voice of the man sounded as if he had no idea how she came to be beaten up like that.

"No, this is your doing! I know that you did this! By the Sunwell, I will deal with you later! I needed her alive, not half dead!" His mother tone swooped from the cold anger to a strange excessively high tone when she spoke. Lohurin snorted. Lilah Whitemorn struck a finger alongside Riselles cheek. "You and I... we still have a lot to talk about," There, the cold tone returned with the gaze, Riselle almost cried when she felt the finger. The woman's piercing cold eyes on her.

"I promise you when I'm done with you, you wished he killed you. You're misery has only just started. I'll take care of that... Riselle," she almost vomited the name out. However, there appeared a smile on her lips. A nasty cold smile.

A silver chain around her neck moved from behind the fabric of her dress when she leaned closer. The pointed object was a shard with red glowing contents falling from her cleavage. The immense heat it gave off sickening to the tired beaten woman. The contents of the shard clearly rising in activity when it came close to Riselle. More so to the mothers surprise when she felt the anger of the soul inside the shard circle around in endless movement.

"Asathar...," Riselle spoke, her voice cracked in a painful whisper the name when she spoke.

Lilah Whitemorn watched the soul hard, then the woman she leaned into. With one hand she grabbed the object and placed it firmly against Riselles forehead.

The intense anger of the captured soul within the fragment forced the whole content to burn brightly, almost overwhelming in brightness. Riselle wanted to scream, no sound came. A sizzling sensation that suddenly echoed through her head, burning her skin. "IT IS YOUR FAULT!" it echoed in her head. "Your fault ... your fault!" It said to her. The words formed in her head. Accusations. "YOU OWE ME A DEBT!" Angry the stolen soul hissed at her, spilling the content of more accusation like flames fed by new coals. She knew it was his soul, robbed of his last and final granted peace before the mother must have drained it from his body.

It was Asathars's voice she heard. And it was darker than ever. Dangerous with a touchy edge to it spiced with frustration and rage. In her head more accusations formed by his presence. Simply felt when the soul shard was held against her forehead. An exquisite torture the mother realised.

She observed what occurred in front of her as she saw Riselles shock, her limps spasm in response, eyes rolling in their sockets as she cried. The pour woman seemed haunted, her skin ghostly white, stretching out her fingers in fear.

"This is a surprise…you feel it too don't you little witch? Do you hear him? Does he scream at you too? He should. Hmm, you never should have choose the light. You had better lingered in the shadows. Did you know how your son responded in a similar way when I introduced him to Asatahrs soul? And he holds twice as much potential as you ever had to host his body," said Lilah Whitemorn. She felt almost sorry that she had made permanent damage to Riselles manapool if she had known this sooner.

Riselle cried out in fear, not responded to her she realised.

"Hmm ... I think this is an interesting moment when we will perform the ritual again," she said and stood up. Taking the soul shard away. The woman stopped shaking.

"Make sure the house alchemist makes a healing potion, I want her to be fully awake when she sees him," Lilah Whitemorn ordered. The guards shutting the cell door again. The key turned in the lock. Leaving Riselle alone in the dark with the promise of more misery. She sobbed in dark silence.


End file.
